If They Knew All About You
by MsHermia
Summary: Tony Stark has lost his son when he was only 2 years old, stolen away in broad daylight. Years later, Tony has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high. Then a random turn of events leads to his path crossing with that of a particular vigilante. #AU #Irondad
1. And So It Begins - Chapter 1

_(author's note: This is a story I wanted to get into after reading an unfinished Fanfic and craving more. So I decided to take out a page of Professor Tolkien's book and just started writing the story I wanted to read. Please let me know if you like it. Feedback makes all of us super happy, so do feel free to leave some. ;D) _

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**summary**

Tony Stark has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high.

Peter Parker is on top of the world. After a few shitty years, losing his parents and then losing his Uncle, things are finally looking up. Sure he lives in a crappy little apartment with his Aunt but he might have just found his mission in life.

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This is an AU story. It starts out a few weeks after Age of Ultron took place. Civil War will be a thing. Other than that I'm not too concerned about sticking to every canon detail and storyline as there will be some significant varying events happening in this fic that are not canon. See endnote of the chapter for #tags.

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****Chapter 1 - **And So It Begins...  
**

He sat on the right side of the auditorium. The view was horrible and he had to sit on the edge of his seat, trying to see something. Anything at all. He peeked through the gap between two giant seniors right in front of him.

"Do you think it's only her or is Tony Stark gonna show up too?" Ned didn't so much whisper as shout into his ear to be heard over the sound system.

Just a second later someone hit him in the head. Urgh. It didn't hurt all that much, probably just the school paper, but this was uncalled for. He turned and scowled into the row behind him, trying to figure out, which asshole had made his head ring. That just earned him another swat with the paper.

"Hey!" he hissed until he looked into MJ's emotionless face. "I didn't even..." Another swat.

"URGH!" he turned back around. Focus. Pepper Potts was right down there, speaking on the importance of STEM education in furthering social mobility and he'd actually wanted to listen to this. Stark Industries wanted to assist schools to put more of a focus on Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics. They would be one of the leading supporters of public schools willing to intensify the advanced STEM courses.

"In addition to the financial support, Stark Industries will be offering new and advanced equipment to the schools that are willing to expand their STEM courses." Holy shit... Peter could already picture the state of the art laboratories they could install in the school and the things he could work on there. A whole new set of possibilities would open up to him with access to that kind of technology. But Ms. Potts wasn't done. "We will be offering individual internships to the brightest and most striving students among you. There is no set limit to the number of interns we will accept." A murmur went through the students. An internship with SI would pimp anyone's college application. And knowing Tony Stark, there might even be some money in it. He was notorious about despising unpaid work. Even with those giants in front of him, Peter could sense Ms. Potts smirking. Could be that her reaction was simply that obvious, even from his vantage point. More likely that it was his Spidey-senses picking up her expression from this far off.

"Let me add though, that Tony Stark will personally be approving interns that his team wants to take on." She laughed at the sudden silence that fell in the room. "Yeah, you better make those applications count."

He sighed. Dang. Those internships sounded like a sweet, sweet deal. But he couldn't risk bringing his Spidey skillz anywhere near Stark Industries. Someone there might figure out that he... Nope. Not gonna happen.

After a short goodbye, Ms. Potts left the stage. Peter jumped up immediately, bit a short "Bye!" to Ned and literally ran for the door. He had left his web fluid in the lab when they were hoarded out of their classes for the "special presentation". That had been a close call. He definitely had to retrieve the evidence and his equipment. Luckily, his had been one of the last classes that had been lead into the auditorium. Sure, sitting this far in the back of the room had sucked, but at least it left him with the possibility of a quick exit.

The lab was on the other side of the building. He wasn't really supposed to be going towards the labs at this time of day. Getting caught and thrown out by some wandering teacher would have been incredibly inconvenient so he hurried along as quietly as possible. Classes were dismissed for the day and most of the students were on their way to the main entrance on the opposite side of the building. All in all, he was unlikely to be seen, but Peter was always on the lookout.

Once he got to the room, he grabbed his stuff, fastened the web shooters and with nobody around on this side of the school he simply slipped out of the window on the second floor. Jumping the southern wall on that very side of the school was the fastest way to get home. He would avoid having to walk all the way back to the main entrance, possibly running into Flash on the way, and he didn't have to circle back around half the school to get to the street leading home. Really a win-win in every way.

The tricky part was getting over the southern wall without being seen. He groaned because he was an _idiot_. The mask was back at home with his suit. He had left it there on purpose trying to discourage himself from too much Spider-Man-ing too close to the school, where people could identify him. It had seemed like a great idea at the time. Of course, the irony of him being far more likely to be recognized shooting webs and jumping walls in plain daylight right at the edge of his school without his mask, struck him with the force of a cartoon anvil now.

Whatever. He quickly shot a glance over his shoulder. He was not gonna walk all the way back around the school now, so here went nothing. Juvenility gave him wings as he sprinted towards the wall and jumped high only to have his Spidey-senses spike up. He came to a full stop on top of the wall and cursed under his breath. Of course, he had jumped right into the beginning of a crime scene that was basically made for Spidey. Two sketchy looking dudes creeping up on a woman on the other side of the wall, not far from where he was clinging to the top of the wall. Her back was turned to him, so were the backs of the sketchy dudes. She was on the phone, not paying attention to the particular alleyway, she had wandered into. And he didn't bring the damn suit. Urgh. But what was he gonna do? As the creeps crept closer there really was only one choice: he had to help!

He double-checked his web shooters, swinging over to the building opposite the wall behind the backs of the creeps. He was careful to keep enough distance to them so he would stay out of clear sight. The danger of being identified was real. But the closer he was the better his aim. He really needed to put some long-distance target practice on the calendar. He was in position when the lady turned. The creeps charged right at her. But she didn't scream. That's what they usually do. She just stood there, letting her shoulders drop like she couldn't believe this was actually happening right now.

Lucky for the lady though, the creeps were not as close as they had probably hoped to be when jumping her. Peter had ample time to jump over to the next building, shoot a couple of webs at them that left them stuck to the wall and then ducked into the afternoon shade of the building top. The lady glanced up in his direction, surprised and still unmoving, but she shouldn't be able to see him up there in the shade. As a car pulled up right next to her, she still stood her ground looking up right at him. Uh-oh... Maybe he had been less inconspicuous than he thought? He stepped back further into the shadow but then she opened the door of the car which carried her off towards Manhattan.

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#

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It was 7:00 pm on a Thursday. One of Tony Starks prime working hours. The prime working hours that were not to be disturbed. By no one. His prime working hours had been the main reasons he had missed hundreds of dinner dates in the past because he had just gotten too caught up in his lab. Uncountable times the minutes had just ticked by and next time he checked it had been 9 pm already. So, when his phone rang, he jumped. FRIDAY permitting a call to ring out on his phone at this time?

"Yes?"

"It's Happy."

"What's wrong?"

"I...I'm sorry."

With a loud clang, the wirecutter he had been holding came to rest on the work desk.

"What for? What happened?"

A short impulse on his watch was enough to call the suit to form around him.

"Where are you?"

"Ok, calm down. Everything is fine now. I just couldn't call before."

"You fucking kidding me? Don't call me after 3 pm for things that can wait." He let the suit retract itself and picked the wirecutter back up.

"It's about Pepper."

Tony froze. God, he was glad this wasn't a video call cause his face had just flinched to an extent that would have been hard to explain to Happy. He tried to keep his voice as passive as possible.

"What about her?"

"She...listen, I told her to stay put and I would come and get her, I just...all these moms in Volvos were blocking the main and the side entrance. They weren't even supposed to be there because school really wasn't even supposed to be out for another 20 minutes, but I just couldn't-"

"Happy. OH my god. Just tell me what the fuck happened." His heart was beating in his throat, his anxiety threatened to be overtaken annoyance. Why was he calling _now_?!

"Two dudes tried to attack Pepper and -"

"Wait, what?"

"Tony, I took every precaution but the exits were just jammed and then Pepper refused to wait, cause the students were starting to storm out of the auditorium and-"

"Are you telling me right now, that my head of security was incapable of picking up my CEO at a high school without her being attacked by random men?"

"She just didn't wait for me! She headed for the other side of the school and I couldn't turn around-"

"My god, Happy, where the fuck is this school? South LA? Watts? Is she ok?"

"Em. No. I mean, yes. She's fine. We - erm. No, we're not in LA, I picked her up at a STEM school in Queens."

A cold shiver ran down Tony's spine. "Of course you're in Queen. I - hem - I knew that." He facepalmed and walked over to his couch, falling into the cushions and pressing one of the pillows over his face to let out a frustrated moan.

"Tony, there's more... I didn't stop them. I got there and there were two dudes literally sticking to the wall. Pepper told me someone shot some kind of sticky web stuff towards them when they came for her. She is... I think she suspects that you have something to do with this. We're on the way to the Compound."

"Someone shot some kind of sticky web stuff at the dudes attacking her?"

"Yeah, we just left them there actually, stuck to the wall."

"And she thinks, that was me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well. Fuck."

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_(author's note:_

_Thanks for checking the story out, guys. Here are a few tags for you that should indicate the direction this story will take. Read at your own risk of spoilers going forward._

_#_

_#_

_#_

_#slowburn_

_#CivilWarTeamIronMan_

_#Tony-centric_

_#IDon'tHateCaptainAmerica #ButHeWillBeHeldAccountableForHisMoralSuperiority_

_#HurtTonyStark_

_#AnxietyAttacks #PanicAttacks_

_#HurtPeterParker_

_#Irondad_

_#Spiderson_

_#Kidnapping_

_#PepperPotts/TonyStark_

_#ClintBartonIsAGoodBro_

_#NotSpider-ManHomecomingCompliant_

_#SortofCivilWarCompliant #Fixit #OfSorts_

_Thanks, guys)_


	2. Febuary 25th - Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - Febuary 25th**

Tony had abandoned the lab. If he was going to get a talking-to from Pepper today, he definitely needed some nourishment. The common room kitchen would do, there should be some Chinese food in the fridge that he had left there last night - or sometime in the morning. When he walked in the TV was blaring. Maybe he'd just be in luck and it would drown out any clattering from his kitchen stopover. Clint had been bombarding him with emails about adjustments to his bow all week. Chances were - if spotted - Tony might not get out of there without a detailed presentation on precisely which bow feature from which umpteenth bow version Hawkeye wanted to add to the newest model that he really needed ASAP as if he'd be likely to just get killed while on mission without it. Like he wasn't retired or something.

Where the hell did all the food go?

"Urgh!" he muttered under his breath. His Chinese from last night was gone and everything left that didn't require at least 40 minutes of food preparation, cleaning, slicing and actually cooking things was some super healthy looking vegetable(?) fry thingy. Probably another one of Visions food projects, that Tony was not touching with a 10-foot pole. He was ordered to get rid of the fridge in his lab after Rogers decided that meals were to be eaten together as it was part of the team-building experience. Maybe he could just have FRIDAY disguise a small fridge as some kind of computer-like looking thingy with lots of cables coming out of it, that Steve was never going to want to touch anyway. Really the only sensible choice left at this point, if he didn't want to be stuck having to order new take out every night. Especially at this time of the day. He was starving and urgh, people. Just no.

Worst case scenario was Rogers bashing the shit out of his fridge decoy because he'd suspect Tony was working on another Super Bot. He probably should just have FRIDAY order something every night. He'd have food and the gang would be less of a pain in the ass about him "actively" avoiding team-building-hour by installing his own fridge, just cause he wanted to have something around, he'd actually want to eat.

"FRI, chicken fried rice. Add some egg rolls. Whoever can be here fast. And make that a daily task," he muttered.

**_ "Boss, a standing daily takeout order is incompatible with the health program implemented by Miss Potts in October 20-."_ **FRIDAY's voice was echoing through the common area.

"Override." Tony interrupted her "And for fuck's sake SHUUUSH!"

Too late though, Barton was already whooping at the sight of him, crawling over the back of the couch like a long-lost friend had just shown up out of the blue.

Well, that's just _ great_.

**_"Boss, by your instructions from April 2013 given to JARVIS and re-implemented in my coding on May 2nd, 2015 overriding Miss Potts' health program will result in a shut down of the lab and your offices at the Compound and the Tower for 10 days. The override attempt will also be cataloged and forwarded to Miss Potts."_**

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me. Just order it for right now then!" He'd have to check for a backdoor in the coding that he was pretty sure he'd left open.

_**"Food is on the way, Boss."**_

Tony turned back around to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer. A lager might make what he assumed the next hour would look like a bit more bearable.

"You know, we already ate." Clint chuckled when he approached the kitchen counter "Pepper is running quite a tight ship around here, huh?"

"Clint." Tony gave a curt nod. "Isn't your wife missing you by any chance?"

"Hey, don't be so testy." He clapped Tony on the shoulder. "I really just dropped by to say hi to everyone and see how the team was getting on without me. Received the email I send you?"

"Which one...?" Tony muttered.

Clint didn't even seem to register that Tony had said anything and just kept blabbering on about the seams on his bow's handgrip and how the different angles they had experimented with attaching it in the past had affected his perfect hitting accuracy.

"Listen, Clint, why don't you drop by some time next week and we can look at... all _ this _ in the lab. Today is really not a great time." Tony interrupted.

"Oh come on. I'm here, you're here. Let's just sort it out now and I can take a new baby home tomorrow and everyone can happily cross off something from their to-do list."

Tony swallowed his annoyance. He shot a short glance over to the sofa. Rogers was watching their exchange. Duh. He really, _ really _ could do without the Captain's latest team unity speech. And Pepper was on the way. Urgh, what was it with these people and their lectures? Speaking of the devil. The familiar click-clack of her heels coming down the hallway was echoing in the kitchen.

**_"Boss, Miss Potts is here to see you."_**

"Peppeeer..." Clint greeted her then turned back to Tony and shrugged. "Fine, I'll drop by the lab in the morning."

"Clint. Aren't you supposed to be at some undisclosed location having dinner with your family?"

"Oh, I think I'm getting on their nerves already," he laughed.

Pepper raised her eyebrows at that and turned to Tony. "Daily Chinese orders? I have FRIDAY stack this fridge with Prime Rib Eye and every organically farmed kind of vegetable you eat basically daily and you want to get a recurring order of chicken fried rice and egg rolls EVERY night?" She frowned at him. "Are you trying to deflect from stalking me earlier today?"

Tony gave her a look. "Please, if I'd be stalking you, you'd never even know."

"Great. So, you recruited someone? You need someone better."

"I'm not having you followed. This is really insulting, Potts. I'd have thought you have a higher opinion of my stealth mode."

"What's going on? Are you guys fighting?" Rogers chimed in from the couch. Tony rolled his eyes. He really didn't need Cap to butt in on this.

"We're fine, get back to your cream cake. You don't want to mess up that pastry or the whole thing will just collapse. You know structural integrity and stuff," he hollered across the room. In a lower voice, he added. "Potts, let's take this to the lab, yes?"

Clint kept looking back and forth between Pepper and Tony, smirking: "You are fighting. What's going on? Did he miss the dinner res again?"

Pepper studied Tony for a moment. His hands were starting to sweat and he didn't really know what he usually did with his hands anymore, so he used both of them to hold on to his beer. She pursed her lips and turned to Barton: "So, you just happen to be in town today, huh? Did you add any web-slinging projectiles to your quiver lately? Picked up some freelancing work?"

Clint flinched back from the counter.

_That's what you get from butting in where nobody invited you!_

Tony just about managed to suppress a smirk. Falling on Pepper's bad side was a bad _ bad _ idea. "What? No! I don't do webs!" He pushed himself off the counter and strolled over to the other Avengers. "I like my explosions. Sticky stuff just clogs up my quiver." He turned back around towards her. "I assume it does. I wouldn't _ know _ of course, since I don't do sticky stuff!" He spun back towards his mates his eyes wide, mouthing a silent scream that had Wanda snickering in the back. Suddenly though he came to a halt and turned around to face Pepper again.

"Hold on, sticky web stuff?" he said all of a sudden getting back into this discussion again. "Did this by any chance include a dude swinging on said webs? Where were you when you saw the sticky stuff?"

Tony cut in, "Barton, you know what this is?"

Pepper had her arms crossed, high-heel tapping on the tiled floor.

"It's probably the Spider-dude!" Clint turned to Tony, eyes wide. Was this supposed to mean something to him? "People have been posting videos on youtube of this dude swinging around on these liana-like looking white strings and roping up pickpockets and car thieves. Cooper actually asked me if he was one of us, but it looks more like a neighborhood watch situation. Quite entertaining. It's like someone set Tarzan loose in Queens."

"Oh, I've seen those!" Sam called out from the other end of the room. He pulled out his phone and walked up to Tony and Pepper. "Hold on, I'll just google "spider dude" and here..." he handed the phone over to Pepper.

Tony had his eyes on her but kept his distance until she handed him the phone. The video quality was abysmal but Tony could make out a little red dude swinging down from the top of a building going after a hooded figure. It looked like he fired an actual gigantic spider web towards the guy running down the street, which made him stick to the building.

"Huh."

"And you're telling me this is the first time you've seen this?" Pepper asked, eyebrows raised.

"Potts, I'm telling you, I have nothing to do with this!"

It was starting to get insulting. They might not be on the best terms right now, but he wasn't in the habit of lying to her. Occasionally stretching the truth by keeping a couple of details from her, yeah. No outright lies though.

"FRIDAY does Mr. Stark keep any files on a web-slinging crime-fighting Spider person?"

"Are you for real?"

**_"I have no record of a web-slinging, crime-fighting Spider person, Ma'am."_**

Tony just gave her a look, tossed the phone on the counter and made his way down to the lab.

Her heels echoing down the corridor were close behind him. At least she was reasonable enough not to speak right now. Not until it was just them. He'd have a hard time keeping his frustration bottled up until they reached the lab if she tried to justify her distrust right here.

The door closed behind them. His beer still in hand he considered just flinging himself down on the couch to watch her try to justify what she had just accused him of. He could just stare her down from down there until she did apologize. It was a rather unusual occurrence that _Pepper_ would be the one making excuses to_ him_. He had a much more impressive track record of pissing her off by not making date night or blowing something up that she had wanted to remain intact. But they were not in that place right now, where some softly whispered promises of betterment and light intimate touches would charm forgiveness out of the other one. Fighting with Pepper now was not going to end in hugs and kisses. So he put down his beer, turned towards her and held himself tall and straight, arms crossed, to weather what was about to go down between them.

"You didn't even tell them that we have broken up?"

"Really Potts, that's the part you want to focus on right now?"

"Yeah, it is! What are you trying to do here? I said I'd give you space to tell them on your own terms after you hadn't even told Rhodey!"

"I was going to tell him! This is just not the kind of news I wanted to discuss on the phone!"

"So I'm just supposed to not talk to him until your schedules line up again?"

"He's my friend, Potts. You have no right to take him!"

"Oh... my _ god_, I'm not taking him. I've known Rhodey for... you know what. No. I'm not doing this!" She stared at him.

"Fine by me. How about we get straight to the part where you apologize to me for accusing me of STALKING you!" he spat back at her.

She narrowed her eyes and he could feel his pulse quickening.

Oh, she just hated being wrong. But that victorious grin that was trying to work its way onto his lips might get him in trouble.

"You really want to stick to this story?"

"I will absolutely be sticking to the truth if that's what you mean by 'story'", he glared.

"So there just happened to by a crime-fighting Spider loose in Queens at the same time a couple of dudes came around the corner to steal my purse or something? You really want me to believe that?"

"For fuck's sake, Potts! I didn't even _ know _ you were on the East Coast, let alone in Queens! Of all the places Queens is really one of the last ones I'd go looking for you. If I had orchestrated anything, it would have been in LA!"

She looked him up and down, frowning. Her expression softening. She turned her back, arms slack on her sides. For a moment he thought she might just leave until he heard her voice soft and warm again.

"You really thought I wouldn't check up on you today, Tony?"

"I… no." He cleared his throat, shaking his head. What… were this still talking about the same thing? "No, I didn't… I didn't expect you to be here at all." He let out a sigh. "Honestly, Potts, I didn't know you're even in town. I…" he closed his eyes for a second. He needed to _ not _ say too much here. But… but it was still Pepper. "If I'd known… maybe… maybe I'd have been tempted to check up on you." He rolled his eyes when she turned back to him, her eyebrows raised. "Fine. Yeah, I probably would have checked up on you. Not by proxy though. I'd never send a web-shooting weirdo after you."

She gave a small chuckle before getting awfully quiet. "I'm sorry." She said it. There it was, his victory over Pepper Potts. A bitter-sweet win. A few months ago this would have felt great. He'd relished in this moment. But now. Well.

He looked right at her, took in the dark circles under her eyes, her hunched shoulders. A cross-country flight and a long day exuding CEO charisma to who knows how many random people would do that to anyone, even Pepper Potts. Not the only long day this month surely.

"You shouldn't have come all this way. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Her response came quick and soft.

"Even if I wasn't. You said it yourself. We're broken up, Potts. You're not my… my girlfriend. And you haven't been my PA in years. This is not your mess to deal with anymore."

She let that sink in for a moment. "Fine. You don't _need me_" she air-quoted, wariness swinging in her voice.

He clenched his jaw when her eyes bore into his. She stepped towards him, her hands first hovering over him now slowly tracing down his arms. Her right finding its way to lie flat against his chest, her left softly caressing his fingers edging him on, coaxing his fingers to curl around hers.

"Don't!" he whispered.

But she leaned in closer. He felt her breath on his neck, her eyes on his face and his mind and body wanted nothing more than to lean into her, hold her against him and forget that whole messy shit show that was his life right now. His life without Pepper.

"What if I needed to see you today, just to—"

"No." His voice came out low and a lot sharper than he had thought his throat capable of standing so close to her. "No, Pepper. You don't get to do this." He was still frozen, his eyes trying to find hers. What was she doing? Why would she...

She was looking right at him and raised her hands to cup his face. No. Too much. He took several steps back, glaring at her.

"What the fuck, Pepper?!"

For a moment her legs almost looked like they were moving, but she stayed frozen in place, her hands still raised, her face expressionless, unmoving.

"Are you seriously saying 'no' to sex right now? Have I lost my edge?" Her voice took on a very un-Pepper-like nonchalance and Tony just stared at her, stunned.

Her arms dropped down to her side. Oh… Oh… my god.

"It's a little insulting that you think sleeping with me is going to make me forget about Aiden."

"I wasn't going for making you _ forget _ ..." she responded dryly.

"Ok, scratch that. Very, very insulting!" His pulse was back up, his temper rising.

She took his beer off the table, drank a couple of sips and turned back to him, eyes staring right at him.

"I've only known two faces of Tony Stark on February 25th since 2005. Black out drunk Tony, who will have to be tracked down and then carried home from some VIP party extravaganza, or sexed out Tony, who will be falling asleep in bed next to me after a different kind of night-long overexertion. I'm not going back to searching the clubs for you."

He stared at her open-mouthed. "So what, your master plan is having sex with me once a year to get me over my son's disappearance?"

She shrugged. "It's illegal to hire someone to do it."

"Wow. Very edgy, Potts." She was baiting him. Holy shit, she was trying to get a rise out of him - emotionally as well as physically it seemed.

"Nope. Not doing this. You will leave." He pointed towards the door.

She just stood there, looking at him. He wasn't going to cave. He wasn't. He couldn't. It was wrong. It was wrong, right? Urgh.

"Now, Potts! Get the fuck out!"

Pepper kept looking at him for another moment before she let her head fall onto her chest and closed her eyes. Oh… no.

"Maybe... maybe you really don't need the company tonight. Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought I did after all..." she whispered. She took a little step towards him, just a small one. "But I need you, Tony. Tonight. Please."  
Tears fell down her lashes onto her blouse. This… this was serious. She… she meant this. There was truth in this. She wouldn't lie. Not when it came to Aiden. Seeing her like that, his pulse picked up, painfully and fast. She just stood there, waiting. But he couldn't open this door again. He wouldn't.

"I can't," he said firmly and took another couple of steps backing away from her. "I won't."

Distance. Physical distance was the key. It's what they said, right? Seeing things from a different vantage point made you realize a different truth. Whatever genuine heartache Pepper still carried about the disappearance of his son on his second birthday, this stunt was supposed to be for his benefit much more than it was for hers.

"I know you're lying, Potts. I'm sure you think of him and you..." he cleared his throat " I'd never... never accuse you of not missing him. I know you're trying to do something fucking noble here, but I'm not your charity case. You don't get to pick me up and cuddle me once a year like a lost toy you just remembered you once owned."

The emotions seeping out of her now left him cold. "Go back to LA, Potts."

A quick tap on his watch and his suit was assembling around him.


	3. Spider-Man's Territory - Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - ****Spider-Man's Territory**

Peter was sitting in one of his regular spots, up on top of a building a couple of blocks from his Aunt's apartment looking out into the dark streets of Queens. His legs dangled over the edge of the building. It had been a quiet night. His suit-less pursuit on his way home from school had really been the most exciting part of the day. The whole week really. And hanging out on top of a building in late February with only his suit and not much action made the cold creep into his bones. He kept rubbing his hands together and flexed his legs to keep his muscles somewhat warm. Maybe he should be proud. Maybe his crime-fighting was actually having an effect on his borough. Well, it was also a possibility that the thieves simply avoided the blocks he had been hanging out at most frequently. He should probably change up his routine a bit. He let out a deep breath. He did love that spot in particular though. The view from up there down the streets toward Manhattan was just stunning.

Manhattan. If crime in Queens was slow he could always expand his territory a bit. Why should only Queens benefit from his mad skillz? There had to be quite a few muggers strolling through Manhattan, picking tourists' pockets and locals' alike. And let's be honest, many New York City tourists were clueless and reckless, too obvious in their ignorance and too blinded by all the shiny neon signs to keep track of their belongings. And the dimmest among them were walking around craning their necks at all the skyscrapers all over Manhattan. Time Square must be a gold mine for pickpockets with all those people pushed up close against each other staring up into the sky. To be swinging among those shiny billboards... Well, one day. A boy still had to have dreams. He chuckled at his owns thoughts.

Tonight was about Queens though and with that, he cast his glance down from the shiny skyscrapers in the distance back to his neighborhood streets. There had to be someone who was up to no good.

_Come on, criminals... _

He really needed to move or he'd be freeze to the edge of this building. He had brought a canteen with hot tea, but at this point, the winter weather was creeping into his bones.

_Bingo!_

Someone was looking suspiciously careful up and down the street while his wool-capped buddy disappeared in an alleyway just behind him. Peter made his way closer to the scene, jumped from one rooftop to the next. He was hiding in the shadow of the night. The dudes were operating on the opposite side of the street though. The creeping around that back ally did look like they were his kind of criminals, but they technically hadn't demonstrated any outright illegal behavior. He had to get to the other side of the street for a closer look. While he was getting the hang of this and the tell-tale signs were very clear, he had made a couple of embarrassing misjudgments. He might have webbed up the occasional hipster dude to his car only realizing too late that the dude had simply locked his keys inside his own car. So he had turned down the profiling and focused a bit more on observing continuous suspicious behavior before jumping into action.

He waited for Scout-Dude to turn and look back into the alley towards Wool Cap to cast his web. Swinging himself to the other side of the street was the trickiest part. If they saw him, the game was up. If he would startle folks who were just passing by or happened to look out of their window, well, same thing. He kept himself low on the rooftop after he stuck the landing on the other side. He felt out the vibe of the street and listened for any rushed movements or hushed voices that would tell him that he'd been discovered. He'd been way too indiscreet in the past. Sure, there wasn't really a way to stop a car slamming into a school bus discreetly... but the videos of Spider-Man people were posting on the internet were piling up. It was getting out of hand. He actually created a couple dozen youtube profiles just so he could comment on some of the videos pointing out "obvious errors" and the "sloppy animation" that proved that "the Spider-Man was totally fake". He would rather want to stay a myth and work in the shadows. Creeping up on criminals was so much harder when you had a cheering fan base all over Queens.

He was crouched down on the roof and slowly leaned over the edge of the building. The alleyway was right underneath him and there was Wool Cap hard at work.

Well, was this him trying to pop out the window frame or was he just trying to be a helpful neighbor cleaning off all these spider webs with that crowbar of his?

"Ok, this one is being pretty obvious about his intentions..." Peter muttered to himself. Wool-Cap had managed to pop one side of the windows out of its frame when Peter made his move. He shot a web, ripping the crowbar out of his hand. By the time Wool Cap looked up, a second web was already flying in his direction, pinned him to the ground and muffled his surprised yelp. Peter was fast to make his way down the wall into the alley.

"It's_ really_ bad manners not to use the door, buddy!"

His feet planted firmly on the ground, he waited for Scout-Dude to lean back into the alley's opening to see what the kerfuffle was about.

"Hi, there!" Peter's web hit him squarely in the chest. "So nice of you to join us..." He pulled Scout-Dude towards him and immobilized him on the ground right next to Wool Cap.

"Ha, well. That wasn't so hard was it." He chuckled, with both incapacitated burglars lying at his feet. Now what? "No one is going to find you all the way down here though, huh? But we don't want you to freeze solid..." An incomprehensible muffle came from the two wannabe-thieves.

He clapped his hands together. "Ok, let me think... I could just drag you there, but that wouldn't be very kind, would it? Well, neither was trying to pop open that window frame, eh?" He gave them the wink and the gun. Wool-Cap and Scout-Dude just looked at him, eyes wide open and stunned not just by Peter's web muzzle. He tapped his foot. "Man, tough crowd today."

He looked back towards the street, then back up to the rooftop.

"I guess, I could just web-burrito you up and then roll you...?" he mused.

In the end, he decided for the kinder alternative after he had rolled them up nicely in a web-wrap, he just flung first Scout-Dude over his shoulder and carried him over to the main street. By the time he had picked up Wool Cap and returned to the ally opening, Scout-Dude had already rolled himself over to the sidewalk. Peter popped Wool-Cap against the building. He had left a handwritten note saying "I'm a burglar. Please call the cops so they can pick me up. You can find my crowbar and the broken window down the alley on the left." on Scout-Dude and would just have to trust that the bypassing pedestrians would follow the instructions and call the cops. With three strong jumps along the wall, he made his way back up to the roof. A short glance down into the street revealed a couple of pedestrians already gathered around the two dudes. He nodded to himself for a job well done. He'd better make his way back to his look-out on that side of the street for now. Crossing the road further down would give him a better chance to remain undiscovered.

A couple of streets down he swung over to his earlier outpost to collect his canteen and the backpack that he had left up there. He landed with a squat and unbent slowly. Something was wrong. The hair on his arms had started to rise. He wasn't alone.

Someone was ..._ eating._

His eyes shifted to either side and landed on a figure sitting on the floor at the other side of the rooftop, munching on what looked like a... burger? He felt his throat contract.

Ohhh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He stood frozen like a deer in headlights for what felt like minutes until Tony Stark, mouth still half-full with the latest burger bite, muffled "So, you're the Spiderling..."

Peter's body still wouldn't move. His mind was trapped between flight and willing his deepest fanboy fantasy to come true. Holy shit, all he could do was just stand there.

"Crime-fighting Spider? Web-slinging onesie dude?"

"Spider... Spider-man.", he finally responded internally cursing himself for how pathetically weak his voice sounded. He cleared his throat, putting some more force into it. "Mr. Stark... how nice of you to drop by..."

Stark stuffed the last piece of burger into his mouth and got up to his feet. His faceplate was open. That was a good sign, right? Maybe Iron Man _wasn't_ there to kick his ass. He could only hope.

"Huh... Spider-Man..." he muffled around his burger. "Well, if ya say so..."

Peter shifted nervously, mentally shuffling through what he had been up to that week. How the hell had he popped up on Iron Man's radar and how much trouble he was in here?

"So, you just happened to be in the neighborhood?"

"Not exactly..."

Peter nodded, forcing himself not to audibly swallow that giant lump that was forming in his throat. "Okay... so... anything, in particular, I can help you with tonight?" He cringed. He sounded like an amateur hustler. May was going to _murder_ him if she has to pick him up at a police station.

"What's ur deal?"

Peter blinked, letting the question sink in. "My deal?"

"Yeah, what's this thing you're up to here?"

"I'm not up to anything, Sir. Just... you know, the occasional neighborly assistance." He tried to keep his voice in check, so his nerves wouldn't make him sound like a squeaky 10-year-old.

"So, it's more of a part-time gig than your actual day job."

"Erm... I guess, so..."

"So, ya don't just hang out on buildings all day waiting for pretty girls to rescue and... and... bad boys to... like... glue to places..." Stark had pulled out another burger from... somewhere and started munching away.

Peter was slightly stunned. What on earth was going on? "I'm not sur-"

"So, you just happened to be hanging out around my girl today and happened to be in the right place at the right time. Nothing suspicious there, right?" Stark crossed his arms, burger still in hand.

Peter's mind was racing. What... what the hell was happening? "I'm sorry, I'm not sure... your girl?"

Stark gave an exaggerated groan, throwing his arms into the air "Fine. Former girl. Whatever. Let's not be anal about it..."

If his mind hadn't been stunned into absolute puzzlement already, this would have certainly done it. As Peter was just gaping at him, Tony Stark stuffed another piece of burger in his mouth and continued to muffle. "Not saying ya don't have some moves. Weird moves. But not bad. Sticking to buildings. That can come in handy. Is it only buildings you stick to or can it be just like anything? I mean... that'd be annoying..." he started laughing. "Hahaha, do you like get stuck to things by accident? Pushing a revolving door and you just have to go for a spin?" Stark was bending over laughing, banging his hand against his thigh.

Peter blinked. Gaping at the man. "Are you drunk?"

Stark was still roaring with laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes.

Oh... Good... God... He was completely smashed...

"I'm sorry..." Stark tried to catch his breath, "but just the thought of you, going round and round and... in that onesie..." knee-slapping, roaring laughter ensued.

Peter blinked again. For a second he was tempted to look around. Maybe he'd find some hidden cameras. This could not be happening. It had to be a prank.

"Are you for real right now?"

Stark hiccuped, wiping at his eyes. "Sorry..." another snort. "Okay... " He let out a long breath, shook off the laughter. "So, Spiderling. I ask again. What's ur deal?"

Peter kneaded his fingers for something to distract himself. When he realized it, he stopped and consciously brought his arms to his sides and straightened his back. "I just want to help people."

"Huh." Stark took another bite off the burger.

"I do! I just help when I see people need it and... How the hell did you even find me?"

"Cross-referenced some youtube videos. You need a new routine."

Peter gaped. "You figured out where I was by looking at a bunch of videos on youtube?"

Stark shrugged. "I had my AI analyze a pattern and made an educated guess."

An uneasy feeling crept up in him. Fine, he had gotten a little lazy with changing up his crime-hunting spots, but had he really been that predictable?

"Bit of an amateur move really." Stark looked up and pointed his burger at him. "Or a very calculated maneuver. Part of your little agenda? Did you want to be found?"

Peter crossed his arms. Ok, this was _not_ the time to get offended, but he couldn't really keep the pout off his face. Good thing he had that face mask.

"I... no. I was just trying to be helpful. To people."

Stark studied him, letting his gaze wander up and down all over Peter. He dropped his arms at Stark's stare, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"You're sticking to your little story then, that you just happened to come across Pepper Potts today as she just happened to be attacked by a couple of low-lives."

"What? Yes! I mean... no, I have no idea, what you're even talking about!" He rummaged his memory. "I mean, there was a lady today by my-" He faked a sudden cough. _Oopsie, focus, damn it._ "by that school. I guess... I guess, maybe... maybe it was Miss Potts. But I wouldn't know. I... I don't ask people for their names before I help them..."

Stark still stared at him, head tilted to the side. Peter shifted his weighted again, forcing himself to keep his arms still at his side and not fidget so much.

"I don't. It must have really just been a coincidence. And I don't have an agenda. I just... I just want to help."

Peter bit his lip, praying that Stark's boozed up mind had him not register the slip-up, as the other man stared at him for another moment. Stark then crumpled up his burger wrapping, a little hatch on his suit opened, where he disposed of it.

"Alright then." He brushed off the rest of the burger from his gauntlets, let his facemask close shut and turned around.

"Wait!", Peter called out, taking a step forward.

Stark turned back and lifted his face mask up again, eyebrows raised. "Yes? You have something to add?"

"I... no. I just... Was that it?"

"Yup."

"You just wanted to know if I had been following Miss Potts?"

Stark shrugged. "I figured you didn't. You seem to be hanging out around that school a lot." He stared at him unblinkingly.

Peter gulped.

"But I had some time to kill, so I figured no harm done in asking you straight up."

"So, you just dropped by... to talk."

"Yup. And now I'm done talking. So, laters!" Stark turned around again, thrusters starting up.

"Wait!"

"Urgh, whattt." He killed the thrusters but his faceplate staying closed.

"Should you be flying home this..." Ermm, what was a nicer way he could phrase 'shit-faced'? "Erm... you know, after having a few drinks..."

Stark just shrugged.

"I mean, you carry a lot of explosives, right? Like... a lot."

"So?" Peter frowned at the indifference swinging in his voice. "Let's not pretend like people don't expect me to blow myself up at some point..." and he added muttering "and looking forward to that."

Peter blinked. "That's not true. People love you. They trust you. They-"

"They care, as long as it's their necks you're saving. As soon as you happen to flatten their car in the process, the gratefulness comes with a claim for compensation and a mandatory apology tour." Stark gave a humorless laugh. "Oh and don't dare to break their stuff if it's their neighbor's neck you're saving. Then those damage claims just keep flying in as action lawsuits."

Silence settled between them. Peter absently scratched the back of his hand, biting his lip.

"Mr. Stark," Peter tried in a quiet voice "Are you ok?"

The other man just cleared his throat. "Sure. Peachy."

Peter looked at his feet. He didn't need his Spider-senses to tell that Tony Stark was harboring some dark demons. How... He was Tony Stark. He was Earth's greatest defender, billionaire, engineer, inventor. He was like the coolest guy on the planet. Peter looked up at him. He should tell him, right? Maybe he just had a bad day and he really needed someone to tell him-

"I'm actually... I'll be taking off."

"Wait, Mr. Stark. I could... I could..."_ Help you..._ no... _Make sure you get home okay? Maybe... call you a cab?_

Stark waved him off. "Nothing to worry about, I've been bashed up to near unconsciousness in the suit more than once. I'd have probably ended up in a big ball of flames long ago if my AI didn't have such an excellent guiding system. And to think they praise Tesla for their mediocre autopilot." Stark gave a short nod. "Well, I'll be keeping an eye on you, Spiderling. Don't do anything stupid."

Stark turned and took off, leaving Peter behind on the roof. His eyes followed Iron Man's firey trail. "And who exactly is keeping an eye out for you, Mr. Stark...", he sighed.

* * *

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_[Author's note: Thanks for reading, guys :) ]_


	4. That Glorious Next Morning - Chapter 4

_(author's note: So sorry guys, I uploaded the_ _wrong file by mistake and reposted chapter 2 instead of chapter 4. Here's the actual chapter now!)_

**Chapter 4 - That Glorious Morning**

Tony was lying in bed and stared up at the ceiling. The room was way too bright. God, he missed Jarvis. He hadn't really slept all that much. A few hours of passed out drunken rest, but a splitting headache wouldn't let him fall back to sleep. He had some painkillers in his nightstand. Those might have taken care of it but he relished the soft hammering of his head. A sweet punishment for his weakness and his pathetic drunken outing. What the fuck had he been thinking? He knew Pepper was probably out of her mind with worry and pissed as hell that he had just taken off. It likely hadn't helped that he had ordered FRIDAY to rejected any incoming calls until further notice when he had bolted from the Compound the night before. He turned and came to rest on his side. The view over the Manhattan Skyline was spectacular as ever. The sky was clear and the winter air so clean he could almost see the earth's curvature from up there. With most of the rooms on his personal floors were still messed up from that Ultron fiasco, he had avoided coming back to the Tower for quite a while. Even his teammates' constant presence at the Compound and everything that came with it, had been more bearable than the sight of the destruction. He'd never even implemented FRIDAY in the penthouse. The loss of JARVIS was still too fresh. Sure. Vision. But that wasn't the same.

At his arrival the night before, the absence of an AI in the penthouse turned out to be a relief though. He had no desire to turn on the lights. Honestly, he wasn't even sure there were any light switches installed. JARVIS had been managing the Tower and Tony didn't need anyone but him to turn on whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Walking through the ruins of what he and Pepper had built was a lot more bearable in the dark. But now it was morning. Sunlight was streaming in from the outside and with no AI to dim the windows all that was left for him was to face a new day. Tony's glance was still directed at the windows but his eyes were glazed over. He wasn't really focussing on anything. The urge to pick up his phone kept popping into his mind, again and again, only to be blicked away. He could feel it lying behind him next to his pillow, just waiting to be picked up. 5 more minutes. 5 more minutes of peace. His phone was where FRIDAY was waiting to tell him that he had a million missed messages. Well, probably... He bit his lip. Or maybe there weren't any messages and that scenario where Pepper stayed behind to make sure he was okay after he basically told her to piss off to LA was all in his mind. She had left before.

Well, if she hadn't left right when he had told her to leave to Compound, the pathetic display he had put on last night would certainly have done the trick in the meantime. _Urgh._ He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. A couple more minutes of the sweet pain piercing his brain. He needed that. He deserved that. With another deep sigh, he dropped his hand from his face, turned around and looked at his phone, reality just lying in wait.

"Alright, FRIDAY. What did I miss?"

_ **"Sir, it's 9:24 am. Today is Friday, February 26th 2016. There are 64 missed calls in your log, I have messages left with 51 of those calls. 48 of the calls were received from Miss Potts, 11 calls from Mr. Rhodes, 2 from Mr. Barton and the most recent 3 from Mr. Rogers."** _

Tony grit his teeth. A sudden rush of relief came over him. Nope. He turned to lie on his back and ran his hands through his hair, fingers knotting around the strands of hair. No, he didn't get to feel happy that managed to keep his friends up all night trying to reach him. What the fuck was wrong with him...

"FRIDAY, is Potts still at the Compound?"

_ **"Boss, my sensors at the Compound have placed Miss Potts in your lab for the last 13 hours."** _

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. _Jackass._

"Tell her I'm fine." His voice low. "Tell her I can't see her today, but that I'll be in touch."

_Coward._

He stared up at the ceiling until FRIDAY's voice once again blared from his phone.

** _"Boss, Miss Potts told me to thank you for the timely and detailed update."_ **

FRIDAY fell silent. Great. Even his AI was unimpressed by his performance last night. He sighed. At least he found himself in the right place to wallow in his misery some more. He could flagellate himself about how much of a wimp he was by avoiding to call Pepper or Rhoadey. All. Day. Long. Well, at least all morning. Reality at the Compound could wait a couple more hours. The damage was done anyway.

He picked up a fresh shirt from his closet - well, fresh minus all the drywall dust that was courtesy of Ultron - and took a stroll around the penthouse. He hadn't really cataloged any of the damage on this floor. The floors beneath the penthouse were all managed by SI - minus his personal lab - and so Pepper had hired people who took care of clearing those areas. The damage there had been minimal thank goodness. Up here, it felt too personal to let SI staff handle it. Maybe it really was time to just get on with it and rebuild. Start a new chapter. He was barefoot as he walked up to the open space that combined living room and kitchen, careful not to step into anything sharp. He tried the tabs on the sink, but the water was turned off. Huh. He leaned over the counter and worked his hand between the coffeemaker and the wall. The power switch had been deactivated and with a flip, the coffeemaker came back to life. Thank god for small mercies. He bent down and rummaged through the cupboards. _Tadaa!_ Pepper always stored bottled water everywhere. Always prepared for the apocalypse. He swallowed hard. Who could blame her?

Tony watched water chortle from the bottle into the coffeemaker's water tank. He grabbed a cup through the broken glass door of the wall cupboard, careful not to cut himself. Protecting his hand with the hem of his shirt he wiped off splinters and shards from the porcelain before he placed it on the coffeemaker's tray.

_I Heart Iron Man. _

His eyes lingered on the print. He'd given this to Pepper as a joke. Because what was more hilarious than gifting your own merchandise to your girlfriend. This was supposed to be their baby. The Tower. They'd rebuilt it after the Invasion. The bit his lip when the wormhole flashed before his eyes at the mere memory of the incident. After everything, it had made them stronger then. Rebuilding their penthouse... He had wanted it to be a bridge for them to rebuild themselves. Their relationship. But the structural damage the last months had left them with now seemed irreparable.

"Too little, too late, Stark..." he muttered to himself. He checked on the beans then started the machine up. "Let's just get on with it..."

Coffee in hand, Tony found himself a headset and let FRIDAY write down his notes. All this shit had to be cleared out. Most of the rooms seemed ok-ish. A few walls had to be redone completely. An hour of mindless cataloging. He'd have to return with some equipment. Implementing FRIDAY would have to be one of the top priorities. He needed her there for everything to work more efficiently. The prospect of replacing JARVIS in the Tower though... Was he really there yet?

Structural work first.

It was almost noon when Tony landed on the roof of the Compound. He'd confirmed with FRIDAY that Pepper Potts had left shortly after the AI had delivered his message to the lab. Just to be on the save side Tony had waited a little while longer though. To be extra sure.

_Coward._

At least he had called Rhodey before he had left for the Compound. Sure, it hadn't been his version of fun when his best friend screamed into his ear for a full 15 minutes and called him out on all the irresponsible, childish bullshit that Tony was too old and too clever to pull. Nothing he hadn't heard before.

"What the hell, man?! I thought we were past this."

"Past this?" Tony responded quietly.

"You know what I mean." Rhodey cleared his throat. "Look, Tony, nobody would ever expect you not to be hung up on losing your child. But... "

"But... he's been lost for years. Let's just put up a stone in his memory somewhere and move on."

"That's not..." Rhodey groaned in frustration. "Don't put words in my mouth, that's _not_ what I was going to say!"

"Well, it's what you suggested in the past." Tony murmured.

Rhodey stayed silent and Tony instantly regretted that he had called him about this in the first place. "Sorry..."

"You know, that's not what I meant... not now and not back then and you know that."

Tony added quietly "But it's what you think. Aiden's dead. And I should accept that."

Rhodey sighed. "I'd really rather be having this conversation face to face."

Tony's hand tightly wrapped itself into the sheets of his bed. Yeah... denial had a bit of a different ring to it.

"What happened, man? I thought..." Another frustrated huff of air came through the speaker. "The last few years you were... you seemed to be doing so well."

Tony shook his head slightly, still digesting that particular revelation from last night. "Apparently Potts has been distracting me with sex for the past 4 or 5 years."

"Come on now, don't be an ass."

"Her words, not mine."

"No fucking way, she said that to you?"

"She showed up yesterday and basically threw herself at me."

"Get outta here... No way in hell that happened!"

"Come on, would I be lying to you?" Tony his tone playful. He really needed to lighten the mood a bit.

But the line stayed quiet. For a brief moment, Tony closed his eyes and bit the insides of his cheeks so he wouldn't curse out loud. The honest answer was yes. Yes, he would lie to Rhodey about his relationship with Pepper. He had in fact been doing a lot of that lately, had omitted all the fights and frustrations that had been building up between Potts and him including their eventual break-up.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there last night, Tones. I should have realized... How about I come by this weekend? We could just hang out. Nintendo, some beers? We could talk..." Rhodey suggested, "or not."

"Yeah, sure. You're always welcome here, you know that..."

More silence from Rhodey's end. Tony swore he could hear his friend's brain working all the way from D.C.

"It's fine, Honeybear. You don't have to treat me with kid gloves. You don't have to tell me that everything's going to be okay and that we'll find Aiden and how we'll be living together happily ever after. It's not 2005 and I know, you don't believe we will. That's fine. I get it."

"I'm sorry, buddy."

"Me too."

"I have to take off, but I'll call you tonight, alright? I want to hear more about what's going on with you and we'll set up a time for Saturday night. You better pick up or I'll be mad."

Tony gave a dry laugh. "Sure, I'll be waiting for your call, Platypus."

Silence rang in his ears after he hung up. He sat on his bed in his room looking out into the city. All those people down there in the street. These people with their lives going about their business like they did. Just living. Around him, there was only silence. Silence in the wake of destruction. Ruin. Loss.

The trip to the Compound had his pulse pick up. The same couldn't be said for his spirits. He arrived on the roof and made his way to the living quarters. A quick shower was definitely of the essence. Then he could probably distract himself with a bit of light work until his head stopped hurting. Before he had even time to take off his shoes, FRIDAY informed him that Barton had been hanging around his lab all morning and was requesting his presence.

"Urgh... just tell him I have a thing. I can't make it."

** _"Will do, Boss."_ **

Tony made his way into the bathroom.

_ **"Boss, he's insisting."** _

"Then insist harder."

He stood in the shower and let the warm water run over his face and chest. If he could just shut out everything around him. His head was buzzing and at that point, it had to be more than last night's booze.

Urgh, forget about yesterday. Yesterday didn't matter anymore. Nothing he could change about it. _Today's about today._

He let out a deep breath. It was the last week of the month and that would mean he could do some scheduling. He would just look over what got done in February and what short time deadlines had to be met in the coming weeks. He was mulling over the SI projects he knew where in the pipeline, Some updates for Avengers were undoubtedly going to land on his desk as well.

Freshened up, he got himself another coffee from the kitchen and headed down to the lab. To his annoyance, a particularly persistent archer was still sitting on the ground in front of the lab entrance.

Just great. "Seriously, FRIDAY. You had _one_ job to do.", he muttered.

"There he is!" Barton was positively shouting down the hall.

"Come on Clint, I told you, I have a thing. I don't have time to tinker with your equipment."

An impish smile crossed Barton's face. "Like you could ever say no to tinkering with my equipment..." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Tony rolled his eyes with a groan. He was really not in the mood for his antics today. "Basically anytime next week. But not today!"

"Come on, Tony! I promised Lila we could try it out over the weekend!"

"Well, first of all, don't make promises like that to your kid. Some of us aren't retired and have an actual schedule to keep to. And secondly, don't let your kid play with that bow! It's a highly sensitive, very deadly weapon!"

Tony opened the door to the lab and strode over to the workbench with Clint on his heals.

"Okay, fine. How about I help you with whatever you're doing today? And that way you're finished real fast and then we can just hang out!" Clint's hand shot up requesting a high-five.

Tony turned around. His face slack, he just stared at him.

"You know you want toooo!" Clint kept waving his hand around expectantly, waiting for Tony's hand to meet his.

Tony shook his head and turned back to his workbench. He pulled up his project sheet, that was now projected above the desk in front of him.

Clint moaned. "If you don't want to work on the bow, that's fine. We can just hang out or something. Have a couple of beers. Maybe... maybe... play a little... I don't know... Wii? Nintendo? I will even let you pick the first game."

"Seriously, Barton, I have stuff to do. Why are you..." he gasped and turned around. "Someone put you up to this!"

Clint's face lost his ear to ear grin and took on a look of pure innocence.

"Nooo, we just haven't been hanging out in like forever, so..."

"Uhhh, baaad spy! Spill, who was it? Cap?"

Clint crossed his arms.

"Can't have been Pepper... might be Fury, but why would he care now."

"Come on, Stark. Nobody put me up to this."

Tony's eyebrows shot up.

"I'm serious. I... " Clint shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I know Pepper hasn't been around a lot lately. I wasn't sure if she'd be here for, you know... so I wanted to drop by just to be sure that someone was... I don't even know. I mean... I do know that you can have a hard time with..." Clint blew out a breath and looked down at his feet. "Listen, I'm not good with all the touchy-feely stuff and all the talking about... things. And stuff. When Pepper showed up, I mean, of course, she would for you. Of course. But I was just relieved, but then you skipped off to somewhere last night and she didn't know where you were and got all, well... and I just..." He looked up at Tony. "I _know_, we don't usually do this. You and I. But, I'm a dad and of all of these emotionally stunted misfits that make up this team, I guess, I'm the only one that might get what you're going through."

Tony bit his lip just so his chin wouldn't drop.

"I'm not... I mean, of course, I can't really imagine... I couldn't begin to..." Barton let out another frustrated breath and found a spot on the ceiling to stare at. "What I do know, is that I wouldn't stop. Ever. I wouldn't stop looking and I wouldn't stop obsessing. And when everyone else is moving on, it would make it even worse... Drive me insane, the not-knowing." He eyes found Tony's again. "They don't get it. They couldn't. But... I think... I think I can. In a way. So, I'm here."

Tony just looked at him. When Clint didn't seem to want to add anything else, he cleared his throat. "That. Wow." Tony cleared his throat again. "That was quite a speech."

"I practiced in the car."

Tony snorted. "I... I'm not really sure, what to say."

Clint shrugged. "It's fine. You don't... I..."

"No, it's..."

They both stopped talking.

"Sorry, I made this awkward."

Tony rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Bow."

Fists shot up in winning celebration as Clint let out a hoot.

"You know, if this was some elaborate scheme to make me work on your stuff... well, then I'm impressed," Tony chuckled.

Clint clapped him on the shoulder. "Meant every word."

With a quick shake of the head, Tony closed his project sheet and pulled up the calibrations for Clint's bow.

They worked side by side for a couple of hours. Tony went back and forth between old models and newer adaptations. Clint's descriptions were truly helpful. The archer described the changes in behavior when he was handling the different versions. Every so often Clint took a trip to the kitchen. The sleepless night clung to him, but the steady coffin supply certainly helped. Then they had FRIDAY order some sandwiches from a nearby deli for a late lunch. Technically a very late breakfast for Tony.

"Okay, I'll admit... This was fun."

"See, I told you, you missed me!"

Tony snorted as he took another bite. They kept eating in silence until Clint gave a low "hem". Tony's eyes shot up but Clint still stared at the sandwich. "So, other than distracting you... If there're any leads or... or... clues ... asses to kick to get to the leads..."

Tony swallowed his bite. He carefully picked at the wrapper to get another clear bite. "There's... we haven't really had any leads. Not for a while."

Clint just nodded but didn't look up.

"Not many to begin with and..." Tony's mind flashed back to the evidence catalog that was burnt into his mind. A lot of empty arrays on that form, especially in the eyewitness category. And the forensic category. No security footage. No one saw...

He cleared his throat. "There was... a child trafficking bust a couple of years ago when they thought that they could uncover some new information," he said quietly. "Nobody ever wanted anything, I mean, you'd think... at least as soon as they'd realize that... who..." Tony shook his head.

"So, you think it was random."

Tony looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Wrong place, wrong time. They just took him. Not realizing, who they were taking."

"That's what they told us. And that's what made sense at first. No note, no calls, no blackmailer, nobody asking for money or blueprints or SI stock... nothing. Even after weeks and months..."

"Huh... weird. Doesn't make any sense if they were after money. Selling kids. And if not for the money why go to the lengths of stealing your kid..."

"Yeah, thanks for the insight..." Tony cut in dryly.

Clint looked up meeting his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"It's alright." Tony sighed. "I've been over this a million times. It never made sense. That's the most frustrating part. If I could figure out the motive, I'd figure out the culprit. Figure out him... or them, well..." Tony took another bite.

Clint nodded. They finished their lunch in silence and when Clint returned from another coffee run, Tony was bent over their latest changes to the bow's handhold again. He made some final adjustments and then handed the bow over.

"Thanks, man."

Tony was already putting away his tools, closed the open files, made sure they were filed under correct project folders.

"You know, you're always welcome to drop by the farm. When tempers run too high at the Compound or something. The kids always love to see you."

"I'm thinking one Avenger is enough for your wife to deal with."

Clint chuckled.

"Or does she need some farm antiques fixed again?"

"In Laura's book, there's always something to be fixed." Clint laughed.

Tony bit his lip and gave a short nod. "I'll actually be moving back to the Tower."

"Oh?"

"Just... it's time."

Clint patted his shoulder. "Well, that's quite the project to keep yourself busy." He stood behind Tony, waiting, he bobbed back and forth on his feet. "I guess, I'll be taking off."

Tony turned around and leaned against his desk. "Alright, well..."

Barton cleared his throat. "Yeah..."

"Thanks, Clint. This was... very unexpected," he laughed.

Clint returned his grin. "Don't make this all awkward now... I'll see you around, buddy."

When Clint had left, Tony took a seat on his desk chair. He pulled up the blueprints of the Tower, looking up different notes the SI crew had put down concerning the cleanup.

"Alright, FRIDAY. Get ready for a major remodel..."

* * *

#

* * *

As the sun set on that Friday night, Peter Parker and his canteen filled with warm tea were sitting on top of yet another apartment building in Queens. His feet were freezing but his hands clasped the hot beverage. A couple blocks south of his usual spot his attention was once again pulled in by the lights over Manhattan. His eyes wandered over the Empire State building, the Chrysler Building and - just behind it - came to rest on Stark Tower.


	5. Of What Is Lost and What Is Owed - Chap5

_(author's note: sorry about all the confusion with the chapter update guys. For some reason I first used the wrong document and then it wouldn't update at all. I jsut decided to leave it now, because I don't want to mess with it any more than I already have ;) )_

**Chapter 5 - Of What Is Lost and What Is Owed**

Still in the lab, Tony was spread out on the couch, massaging his temples. His headache was basically gone. His limbs didn't feel any heavier than usual. He was pretty much out of the woods when it came to the physical effects of his hangover. There was still some damage control to be done though. Like calling Pepper. But that was not gonna happen tonight. Besides the point that she probably wouldn't pick up anyway, just the thought of hearing her voice made him cringe. Maybe tomorrow, after his night with Rhodey. He hadn't left the lab ever since entering that morning with Clint. His focus was on the blueprints with a short break that he used to actually update his worksheet for March.

"FRIDAY, time?"

_ **"It's 7:50 pm, Sir."** _

He let out a long breath. "Alright, how about you back all of this up." He closed the open Tower project. "You should be able to access the mainframe in the Penthouse at least remotely now. Make sure I have a copy of all this over there."

_ **"Of course, Boss."** _

"Thanks, girl. I'll be off to get some dinner. Let me know if there's any delay in the data transfer before I leave for the Tower."

_ **"Yes, Sir."** _

Tony wandered through the hallways towards the kitchen, pondering dinner. _The Team should have eaten by now, so chances were that he'd have the kitchen to himself. Maybe he'd have more luck with them keeping to themselves in the common area today. Or delivery? And have it delivered to the Tower? He would definitely have his peace over there. At least in terms of people... He could always try some of the healthy fridge stuff. Might appease Potts somewhat at least. _

He walked into the room and kept his head down. The other Avengers had gathered on the couches. Roaring laughter echoed through the common room. Their eyes were all fixed on the screen in front of them. Tony opened the fridge and stared inside for a full 5 minutes. What would go with what here exactly? He pulled out the vegetable drawers one by one. Eggplants, Romanesco, some funky looking root veggies. He had no idea how to even prepare half of this stuff and no patience to do 20 minutes of cleaning and chopping. There were some scampi in the freezer, which would do. Pasta would be fast and easy and he'd seen some fresh spinach in one of those drawers. Add a bit of cream. Voila. Simple but elegant. And most importantly: fast!

As soon as he started rattling with the pots and pans, boiling water for the pasta and preparing the scampi for frying, he did inevitably draw intention to himself. It only took Rodgers a couple of minutes to heave himself off the sofa and stalk over to him.

Leaning over the kitchen counter, the Captain grabbed an apple, bit off an impressive piece and muttered, "You missed practice."

Tony really didn't feel like burning his dinner. He only gave him a short glance. "Sorry, I had a thing at the Tower."

"At the Tower?"

"Yup, kinda last minute. Didn't really... erm... anticipate the trip. Should have called, sorry."

"Is something going on with you?"

Tony sighed, stabbing at the shrimp in the pan. "I'm fine, Cap. You know I can't make it to every training. We have an agreement, don't we?

"Yeah, the agreement is you call, if you can't make it."

Tony stayed quiet for a moment and swallowed his annoyance. Most of all, because Rogers had a point. He should have just fucking called and avoided the lecture.

"I said, I'm sorry."

Rogers nodded. "So you and Pepper..."

"Let me stop you right there. I actually have something to tell you." He turned, back straight and arms crossed.

"Oh?"

"Yes, actually part of the reason I didn't make it to practice this morning. The Tower."

"Yes?"

"I'm redoing my floors at the Tower."

Steve stood up straight, his eyes blinking rapidly. "Oh... how come?"

Tony tapped his fingers on his arm. "Well, they needed a little work ever since things went down there..."

"You mean ever since you set Ultron loose?"

"Ok, I didn't set Ultron loose. He more or less set himself loose."

Steve raised his eyebrows, "Well... that's -"

"Actually," he uncrossed his arm and held up his hands effectively stopping Rogers rebuttal, "that doesn't matter to this story, so let's just skip this argument." He turned and quickly stirred the scampi and added the spinach. "I'm redoing some rooms and I will be moving back there as soon as it's done."

"You're moving back to the Tower? But why?"

Wow, were they really going to play this particular game? He turned to look at Rogers.

"Because we're driving each other crazy, Steve. I can't handle it anymore!"

"Tony, come on now! We're a team! We have to stick together, grow together. If you'd just turn up to more of the group -"

"Stop." Tony dropped the spatula and held up both his hands again. "It's not gonna happen. It's not for me."

Steve pursed his lips. "That's really disappointing, Tony. We want you here."

"Of course you do," Tony murmured "Listen, it's really gonna be a stress relief for everyone. You guys don't have to worry about whether I'll remember to show up for practice and I don't have to feel guilty for forgetting to go."

"Hm..." Steve leaned back against the tabletop, fingers drumming against the surface. His face was sporting the very best version of his signature I'm-not-angry-I'm-just-disappointed look. "I guess... I mean, it's your decision. But we will miss you at the Compound."

Tony turned back to his pasta and made a face at the scampi.

"What about the equipment?"

"What about it?"

"Well, if something breaks during practice or a mission, we can't just drop it off at the lab anymore if you're at the Tower. How do you want to handle that?"

Tony stirred his pasta and turned down the heat. "I guess, you can still drop it off as you would now. The lab's not going anywhere. Just log it with FRIDAY. Then I'll put a date in the diary for when I can come over and have a look at it. That's what happens now as well anyways."

"But what if we need something to be fixed faster than that?"

"I guess, you'd just let me know it's an emergency."

"But what if you're out?"

Tony turned back. "Come on, Steve. I'm out plenty now as well. I'm not chained to that lab."

"Could have fooled me..." Rodgers mumbled.

Tony shot him a dirty look.

"Well, alright. Do you have a time frame for when you assume you'll be packing up your things?"

"I'll let you know."

Rodgers turned away, muttering to himself, "Of course you will..."

Tony bit his lip and gave his head a short shake. Food. He needed food. He took a deep breath, strained the pasta water. Almost done. He definitely had to take a picture once he was done, just so that he had some evidence when he called Pepper eventually.

* * *

#

* * *

The weather over New York City was just as chilly as it had been the night before and Peter's tally was just as unimpressive as it had been all of the rest of the week. Today he'd only apprehended a couple of pickpockets. Not even a carjacker. Maybe it was the weather after all and not just his amateurish patrolling routine. That's had Stark called it… an amateur move.

Urgh. What did he know... He's just this... this... well... basically the coolest Superhero ever. Peter pouted and took a bite of the chocolate bar he'd brought as a motivational goodie.

Well, some superhero Stark was, flying around the city smashed in search of innocent teenagers. He took another bite of the chocolate bar, his eyes wandering over to the Manhattan Skyline. In Stark's defense, he didn't really know that Peter was 14... His eyes were fixed on Stark Tower.

"Urgh, come on Peter." He shook his head and drew his eyes back to his own streets. Stark was fine.

He was gazing down into the streets of Queens. Maybe it was too early on this Friday night for people to be out and about. He dug around in the pouch he had fashioned into his suit for his phone. He sighed. It wasn't even 9 pm. Most partygoers were still getting ready to go clubbing, couples going out for dinner would be sitting in their nice restaurants. _Their heated, cozy restaurants... _

"This blows." He stuffed the last piece of chocolate into his mouth.

Just as he led his gaze wander down the street something caught his eye. A huge shooting star was coming down over Manhattan, landing squarely at...

"That's not a shooting star, that's Iron Man landing at Stark Tower, you dumb-ass," he muttered to himself. He stretched his leg and watched the Tower in the distance, while he stowed away the phone.

"You know, where there's always something going on... Manhattan..." he grinned to himself, swinging his legs back and forth, still sitting on the edge of the building. He could totally expand his services...

"It's not like anyone here is gonna miss me..." he looked up and down the street. "Nope, nobody gonna miss me patrolling here."

He jumped up on the ledge, did a couple of jumping jacks to warm up his muscles and swung his way over to the next building. He only needed to swing a few blocks to the north to get to the Queensboro Bridge. He crossed the East River, swinging underneath the bridge - which was probably the most fun he had had swinging in weeks. When he made it to the other side, he swung another block and planted himself on top of one of the buildings. Must have been somewhere on 1st Avenue. He could already see Stark Tower in the distance. First though, he'd do some work. Crime fighting should definitely come first and then - if he had done well - he'd reward himself and satisfy his curiosity. Really, it was part of his job to make sure the people in his borough were doing ok. And since he had just extended his services to Manhattan, it'd be downright negligent not to check up on Stark. Not _'check-up'_ check-up, just… well, to see what Stark was up to.

It took him less than an hour to tie up 5 pickpockets, 3 carjackers, 2 burglars and another 2 shoplifters between 57th and 49th street. He'd not been this productive in Queens all week! One of the ladies, whose purse he had returned, even bought him a hot dog! Sure, it was a little… well, mushy. But hey, that was basically pay for a job well done. He was sitting up on the rooftop of a hotel in Lexington Avenue, only a couple blocks away from the Tower. He munched on his hot dog, craning his neck to look up into the higher floors of the Tower. He was a little too close and from his vantage point, there really wasn't much to see. Certainly not whether Stark was roaming around in the upper levels.

But unless he had taken a car back to the new Avengers facility in upstate, where he'd probably flown in from, he must still be up there. Iron Man sure hadn't been sighted soaring across the sky again since Peter had been sitting on that rooftop in Queens.

* * *

###

* * *

In bed, not having bothered to dim the windows, Tony had turned his face towards the light, eyes still closed. It had been a knock at the bedroom door that had roused him.

"Yes..." he croaked.

The door opened and an unstrung Pepper Potts walked into the room. Her eyes didn't meet his apart from a short flicker up that seemed to confirm her assumption that he'd still be in bed.

"Mr. Stark, Detective Roberts arrived a couple of minutes ago and is asking to speak to you. He's waiting in the downstairs parlor."

Tony stretched out his arms before one hand came down and rubbed the bridge of his nose."What time is it?"

_ **"Sir, it's 8:52 am. Today is Friday, April 21st, 2006."** _

"Thanks, JARVIS."

Tony leaned over to the other side of the bed and let his hand softly glide down the naked women's back lying next to him. For a moment he closed his eyes, cleared his mind of every single thought and just enjoyed the soft skin underneath his fingers. He sighed before he pulled back his sheet. He put on some boxers and a morning coat, then glanced up. Ms. Potts was still waiting in the doorway of the room.

He slightly brushed against her when he walked out of the room. "Take care of this Pepper, will you..." indicating the bedroom.

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

He glanced over his shoulder. She was still behind him, following him.

"JARVIS will let me know when she wakes up or would you rather I wake her and throw her out right away?"

He stopped abruptly and turned on his heal to face her. Eyes open wide his spin made her stop in her tracks as well. "Do I look, like I'm in the mood for sass from you today, Potts?"

Her eyelids fluttered and she took a step back, avoiding his eyes. "No, Sir. I'm sorry."

He fastened the waistbelt on his morning coat and turned back around. Long and hurried strides took him towards the parlor where the Detective was waiting. His ears were filled with the beat of his pulse that had already spiked when Pepper had announced the guest and was nowhere near settling down. With every step that brought him closer, it only intensified. She was still following in his wake, though the characteristic clicking and clacking of her heals was muffled. She was probably literally tip-toeing along behind him, trying to be as unprovoking as possible. But Tony couldn't care about that now.

He strode into the parlor, not much mind paid to his ruffled appearance. "Detective Roberts..." He shook the man's hand and nodded at the two policemen who accompanied the Detective.

"Mr. Stark. I'm sorry to be barging into your home without so much as a call."

"Not at all, Sir. Should we take a seat?" Tony's voice vibrated with nerves. He'd be surprised by his own indifference to his lack of collectedness if this had been the first time the Detective had walked into his home unannounced. Or maybe this not being an isolated incidence is what should make him feel embarrassed about his inability to keep his composure. "Some coffee maybe?"

"I'm afraid we won't be staying long, Mr. Stark. But yes, please do take a seat."

Tony's lung deflated as the Detective motioned for him to sit down on his own couch while the man planted himself in front of Tony. He cast his eyes down as he sat, nodding slightly for the Detective to begin.

"It's not good news, I'm afraid. We did find the body of a young boy close to Wildwood Canyon Park, north of Burbank." The detective cleared his throat. "We had to run some tests as the... the body had been there for what we estimate to be a few months."

Tony nodded slowly, his breathing still shallow. There was nothing he could do but sit and listen.

"There were no personal items, so we used a DNA sample to identify the boy. It was not a match for your son."

He closed his eyes and nodded again.

"We didn't want you to read about this and worry. The department is still doing—"

"Yes." Tony got up. "You're doing what you can. I understand."

"Mr. Stark, I'm sorry—"

"Thank you. Thank you for taking the time out of... of what I'm sure is a busy day for you."

The Detectives eyes darted over to Pepper, who stood in the entrance to the room, dabbing at her eyes.

"Is there anything else, I can help you with today, Detective," Tony asked, not bothered to keep the flatness out of his voice. He was about done with this.

"The evidence we have collected so far..." the Detective cleared his voice again. "Every indicator points towards this being connected with the 5 other cases of boys aged 2 to 4 years that went missing since 2005. We have still not added Aiden to the list of what we strongly assume is the work of a serial offender even though his abduction seems to follow a similar pattern because... well..."

Tony crossed his arms. "Because no body, no evidence," he added evenly.

Detective Robert mostly ignored that Tony had even spoken. "We are confident that we can learn from this case. Any new inside can lead to more understanding of this pattern, which can help us find your son."

"Can help you find my son's body." Tony was staring at the Detective. The coward wouldn't even look at him.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Stark. The odds -" the Detective began, his eyes still glued to the notes he was clutching.

"Yeah, I know about the odds. Is that it?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry, we couldn't bring you better news."

Tony turned. "Thank you as always, gentlemen. Potts..." He motioned to the policemen when he passed her. He bit his lip hard as he took the stairs down to the workshop. With every step, his anger and pain took another step into his heart. He winced and tasted blood when his feet hit the landing. He cursed out loud and hammered his code into the touchpad.

It took another hour for Pepper to turn up in the workshop. He was still in his boxers and robe working on his 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster.

"Just put it on the desk," he murmured from underneath the car.

"It's... just coffee and some clothes," her voice small.

"Desk."

"Yes, Sir."

She quickly took the couple of steps over to his desk. There was some rustling as she put down whatever it was she had brought down for him. Then there was silence.

"Anything else, Miss Potts?"

He heard her sniffle and some unidentifiable mumble.

"Can you speak up?"

"I'm sorry, Sir." she sniffed more clearly.

"Stop apologizing."

"Yes, Mr. Stark." Again, her voice so weak he could barely make out her answer.

He sighed once and rolled himself out from underneath the car. He sat up and shot a look over to where she stood, shuffling from one foot to the other next to his desk.

"Potts, I need you to stop. No more moping, no more apologizing. You need to stop."

He sighed as her face twitched. She was trying really hard to fight back tears.

He looked away and sighed. "Pepper, I can't stand it anymore. Do you want me to fire you?"

"Yes, Sir," she sniffed.

What now? If he hadn't still been sitting down this probably would have floored him. He reached for the rug next to him and cleaned off the grease and dirt that was stuck to his hands. He got up slowly and took some time to walk over to where she was standing, giving her space as she finished blowing her nose and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"You want me to fire you?" He was still a few feet away from her, didn't want to crowd her in.

"Yes, Sir," she nodded. Her voice still shook with emotion. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robe.

"Are you going to tell me why?"

Another tear fell off her lashes faster than her hand could reach up to conceal it.

"You know why."

He shook his head. "Nope. You want to be fired, you say it."

Her eyes were still locked on the ground in front of her. He didn't rush her but he wouldn't just let her go like that.

"It's my fault." He bit his lip and pulled a face as the cut from earlier broke back up. Pepper still wasn't looking up though. "I shouldn't be working for you anymore. You need someone... someone... competent and reliable. Someone you can trust."

Tony sighed but still kept his distance. "You know that's bullshit. Nobody is more competent and reliable than you."

"I let you down. I should have quit months ago. I'm—" she stopped herself.

"Look at me, Pepper."

She dabbed at her eyes again before she met his.

"We've had this talk. I don't blame you."

Pepper looked away immediately and just gave a humorless huff. "Yes, you do."

He grit his teeth "When I say -"

"Shut up, Tony." Her eyes were red and fiery when she looked back up. Her face drawn in pain, "You trusted me with your son and someone took him while I was supposed to look out for him. Only an idiot would not blame me." She drew a sharp breath, eyes back at her spot on the ground. "And you're not an idiot."

He clenched his hands into fists. "Well, thanks. No, I'm not, which is how I know that you're not reckless, you're not careless."

"I turned my back and he got taken!"

Pepper raising her voice at him was unsettling, to say the least. How long had she been beating herself up like that? "You turned your back because there were two Nannies watching him."

"Who I had hired."

"Jeez, Pepper! Do you need me to get you a cross and some nails in here or would you rather carry it all the way up to San Antonio so we can crucify you for the whole mob to see."

She shook her head but stayed silent. Tony closed the distance between them with two steps and clasped her shoulders.

"Pepper... you need to stop."

"I can't do this anymore. Just… just fire me."

He pulled her into a hug. "I don't blame you, Pep. I swear, I don't and you need to stop blaming yourself."

One of his hands held her steady and pressed against him at the small of her back. The other softly rubbed her back, drawing small circles between her shoulder blades. Her head came to rest on his shoulder and he just let her cry. "I promise I don't blame you, Pep. I never will." His hand came up and ran through her long hair, then slowly stroked along her neck. She was all he had now. If she…if she were to leave he wouldn't know what to do with himself. Only as her tears fell onto his collarbone did he remember that he was still only in boxers and his robe. He took a deep breath willing his body not to give her another reason to leave.

"I need you, Pep. I'd be lost without you." He closed his eyes. He was such a selfish bastard. She wasn't happy here. Who could blame her? Tony shifted slightly which made her pull back and reach for another handkerchief. He quickly readjusted his robe, silently cursing the messy display he put on, then cleared his throat.

"If you really don't want to stay, I... of course I understand." He gestured around the workshop with a final motion to himself. "I know, this is a lot to keep up with."

She blew her nose. Still not looking directly at him. "How can you trust me, Tony. After everything. If I -"

"Let's not do 'what-if's alright? You think I don't have any 'what if's?" He shook his head, rubbing his brow. "What if we'd just taken him for a week to Aspen like _you_ told me to or if I'd at least told you to stick to the location at the beach? What if I'd actually _been_ there? What if I had stuck to the one promise I had made my son and hadn't gone into a fucking board meeting on his birthday?" He tried his best to keep his voice from rising once more. "You're not the only one with regrets, Pepper."

She nodded quietly, then shrugged her shoulders and looked up at him. "It's not your fault," she offered.

Tony gave a dry chuckle. "Man, that phrase really doesn't do anything for me."

"Ditto."

They stood in silence for a bit.

"I'll _never_ not be sorry, Tony."

He nodded, then gave a short shrug. "Just help me find him then."

She looked up at him, brow furrowed. "What… I mean, of course, I will, but how-"

"JARVIS is decrypting the LAPD's files right now. These idiots are useless. I should have done this myself months ago!"

Her mouth fell open and he braced himself. Hacking police files was illegal and Pepper Potts did not do illegal. But they just stood in silence, her eyes on him, until she cleared her throat.

"You better put some clothes on."

"Hey, are you scolding me? I thought we were having a moment?!"

She rolled her eyes. "Moment's over."

"Are you still trying to make me fire you?" He stared at her. There was no beating around the bush with Pepper. He had to know where she was at.

Her eyes still held the same sadness but she shook her head. "No. Not today."

"Are you gonna call Detective twerp and tell on me?"

She bit her lip. "Just tell me how I can help."

He smiled and pointed at the car behind him. "Right now, I really need a scrub nurse. What do you think about giving the 1932 Ford a more fiery look?"

She laughed and rubbed the last of her tears from her face. "I'm not a mechanic, Tony."

"You're clever. You'll learn! JARVIS, an update when you're done."

** _"Will do, Sir."_ **

* * *

###

* * *

Tony sifted through the dust of his living room, brushing off picture frames. He'd been staring at a particular picture of him and Pepper in the workshop, covered in orange paint in front of his 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster. The car was destroyed along with his LA Mansion. For a moment at the time he had considered fishing the remains of the car out of the Pacific, but he wasn't sure if he could stomach the destruction after everything they had been through with Aldrich Killian. Some things better stayed buried. Not this picture though. Not this memory of Pepper and him.

He dusted it off, carrying it over to his desk.

"FRIDAY, we need a few new frames in here."

_ **"I will put it on the list, Boss."** _

He looked up and his heart skipped a beat, a very unmanly scream fought its way out of his throat as he staggered back from the windows.

"Oh my god..."

That little freak in his red and blue onesie was pressing his face against the window and waved at him.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me. FRIDAY, what happened to the little head's up when there are people lurking outside the window that we discussed?"

_ **"I'm sorry, Boss. You haven't implemented my sensors at the Tower yet."** _

"Right..." He walked over to the balcony door, sticking his had outside. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Hi there, Mr. Stark. I... um... I happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I'd chec-" he coughed slightly "erm, thought I'd have a look what you're up to."

"Are you trying to babysit me?"

"Noooo. Just, you know. Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, hanging out in the area. I saw there still was light on, so..."

Tony's brows shot up, but he chuckled. "Fine. Come on in. You want a drink?"

The Spiderling hesitated but followed Tony through the door to the inside of the Tower.

"I'm good, thanks."

Tony shook his head and walked towards his liquor cabinet, that was miraculously still intact.

"Wow, Mr. Stark. What happened here? Party gotten a little out of hand?"

"Hostile AI wrecking havoc."

Tony poured himself a glass as the other man took in a sharp breath. "Ultron's doing? Yikes."

"Yup. So, Spiderling. Any particular reason, I owe this visit to."

He clapped his hands together and looked in Tony's direction. "Not really, like I said—"

"Yeah, yeah." His back leaned against the cabinet Tony tilted his head. "The light's were on. How's Brooklyn?"

"Queens. I live in Queens."

"Oh, so you do live there."

"Erm." The guy shifted from one foot to the other.

Tony could have sworn that he had hit a sore spot, but with that mask, there was no telling. He took a sip of his drink.

"Spit it out, what do you want?"

"Honestly, just wanted to see how you were doing. It's not every day someone intercepts me on patrol and you seemed a little... a little..."

"A little..?" Tony looked at him expectantly.

"Well, it doesn't matter. You're obviously fine now, so... you know, I guess..." he pointed back to the door and retreated a couple of steps.

"Hold it, Spiderling." The guy froze. Well, at least _someone_ still listened to him. He took another sip, then kept his eyes on the amber liquid as it swirled in the glass. "I understand why you're here and being the gentleman I am, I'm not going to beat around the bush with you. You came all this way and it's only fair. So, what do I owe you?"

"Owe me?" The Spider unfroze. He awkwardly crossed his arms and tilted his head in turn.

Tony's eyes were back on the other man and he studied every little movement. That damn mask made it really difficult to read him. "Yes, I owe you. You had Miss Potts' back. I'm in your debt for protecting what's most precious to me. So, spit it out. What do you want."

The Spiderling's head tilted to the other side when he cleared his throat. "Well... I... um. Nothing in particular would... come to mind right now. It's... erm..."

"Just staking your claim. That's fine." Tony nipped at his Scotch again, eyes fixed on the stranger in his penthouse. "A debt is a debt and I'm good for it."

The Spiderling nodded somewhat hesitantly "Well, that's great news."

Tony flashed a smile and stood up straight. "Great doing business with you. Now, off to Brooklyn you go."

"Queens."

"Yeah, yeah. Next time, use the front door. I don't appreciate people hanging off of my living room windows." He shooed him out the balcony door and turned back to his disaster of a living room before he froze, spun around and called out of the balcony door.

"You wouldn't have wanted to use the..." He looked up and down the balcony. No Spiderling to be found. "elevator," he finished quietly.

"Oh well..." He closed the door and downed the rest of his drink. "So, FRIDAY, what's missing to get those sensors up and running?"


	6. I Don't Like Mondays - Chapter 6

****Chapter 6 - **I don't Like Mondays  
**

"You're behind, honey bear..."

"Nope, nope, nope, just a sec..."

"Nuh-uh, you're never gonna... shit..shitshitshiiit."

"Bye, bye, loser!"

Tony jumped off the couch, pressing the keys with all the force he could muster.

"Fuck, damn it, GAH!" He threw the controller across the room and he turned to Rhodey. "You're supposed to be here to make me feel better. I hope you're ashamed of yourself!"

Rhodey, on the other hand, was roaring with laughter - holding his stomach, crying sort of laughter - at the sight of Tony all flustered.

"I am so not! I said we should hang out, not that I'll let you win just to make you feel better!"

"FRIDAY! Transcript!"

_**"Boss, I'm afraid pulling up the telephone transcript would not work out in your favor."**_

That set Rhodey off for another roar of laughter.

"Really? Do I have anybody left on my team?" Tony let himself fall back onto to sofa.

"Aww, come here..." Rhodey reached for him and tried to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Nope. Nope. Come on now!" Tony struggled against Rhodey's grip.

"Fine." He let go and leaned over the armrest to fish a couple of beers out of the cooler. "We really need to talk about your logistics here. What happened to the fridge?"

"I'm not allowed a fridge." He shrugged, sat up straight on the couch and mimed a headmaster pose including accusingly raised index finger. "Food is to be consumed in the common area and small talk is to be made with one's team members for an optimal bonding experience."

"You're kidding..."

Tony opened his beer with a pop. "Nope." He popped the 'p' aping his beer.

"Well, moving back to the Tower makes more sense now. What's the time frame on that?"

Tony took a sip, shrugging his shoulders. "I've done some cleanup yesterday, but I really want to restructure the penthouse. It's all very open and I'm kind of over that. I've really started to appreciate doors again." He raised his brows suggestively at Rhodey and then rolled his eyes taking another sip of the beer.

"I bet. So where are you at so far?"

"I've implemented FRIDAY earlier today. Connected her to the sensors I had in place from JARVIS already."

Rhodey looked up at him, eyebrows knitted close together. "You never implemented FRIDAY at the Tower?"

Tony shook his head. "No, I guess... It's like having the new kid move into the dead kid's room."

"JARVIS is not really dead though."

"Well, he's not exactly alive either. Sure, he's part of Vision's makeup. But that's not the same."

Rhodey nodded. "How did it go then?"

"Honestly, it was fine. I actually got a motivation boost last night, when the Spiderling was suddenly clinging to the window of the penthouse."

His friend snorted and coughed on his drink, beer dripping out of his nose and splattered all over his chin.

"Dude...gross!" Tony shook a few droplets of liquid off his arm.

Between a couple more coughs, Rhodey stuttered. "What's a Spiderling? And what is it doing clinging to the windows of your skyscraper?"

"It's this dude...FRIDAY pull up those Spider-Man videos."

Rhodey's eyebrows shot up as he watched and listened to Tony's story about a man who could stick to buildings and shot spider-webs from his wrists.

"So, is it a gimmick?"

"Not sure."

"Like, does that white stuff come from inside his arm?" Rhodey wrinkled his nose. "That's nasty!"

"Don't know."

"Tony, how are you not freaked out by this?"

He shrugged and leaned back on the couch, beer still in hand. "I think he's kinda cool."

"What's happening? Dude, you should be all over this, figuring out what the guy wants and if he's a threat."

Tony gave another shrug "He's been tying up purse thieves and carjackers. I don't think there's much for us to worry about."

Rhodey's looked, nose pinched, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. "So why was he up there?"

"Apparently he's attracted by light."

"Why are you speaking in code?"

Tony chuckled. "I guess it was payback, I kinda ambushed him on Thursday night."

Rhodey's mouth fell open. "That's where you were all night?"

"Not all night. We had a little chat. He..." Tony took another sip of his beer. "Well, he actually helped Potts out of a delicate spot."

"He happened to help out Pepper?" Rhodey's eyebrows shot up even more. "Yeah, that doesn't sound fishy at all!"

Tony sighed "I know. So, I checked it out. Checked him out. I had FRIDAY do a bit of analysis of his patterns, sightings, eyewitness accounts, the whole shebang." He shrugged. "He doesn't seem like a criminal mastermind as far as I can tell. I'll keep an eye on it."

"Huh. Alright then. Speaking of Pepper..."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Have you talked to her?"

"Mhm."

"Recently?"

"Yeah sure, we had a very amicable chat the other day..."

"I'm talking recently as in the last 36h."

Tony sighed. "I called. She doesn't answer." Rhodey grimaced and quietly sipped his beer. "She's pissed. I get it."

"That she is."

"Did you talk to her?"

"I'm not getting in the middle of this."

"Fine by me. So, about my Mario Cart revenge-"

"Nope, we're not done."

Tony groaned. "Come on, Rhodey. What do you want me to say? I fucked up. It's not the first time. Won't be the last. She'll get over it."

"She's worried, Tony. We're both worried."

"Nothing new about that either." He got up and walked all the way to the other side of the lab and retrieved the controller.

"I'll be coming back to New York more frequently. Bit more training units."

"I don't need a babysitter, Platypus."

"I'm not babysitting. I'm your friend. Friends spend time together. More than we have recently."

"Fine. I can live with that." Tony dropped back onto the couch.

"Good."

"Good."

"Can we get back to me kicking your ass at Nintendo now?"

"It amazes me, how your brain works..." Rhodey laughed. "A true genius' mind..."

* * *

#

* * *

A grey, wet Monday morning was darkening Peter's day. After he had reveled in a high over the weekend courtesy of his amazing Friday night, his mood quickly spiraled down. He'd hunted villains in freaking Manhattan and climbed a huge skyscraper from the outside. Hell, he'd been offered a Scotch - or something - by Tony Stark, made small talk and exchanged favors. His life had gotten freaking amazing. For about a day.

He was bursting with excitement, dying to talk to someone about what had happened to him. But he couldn't. Nobody knew. Nobody could know! Even May had commented on his good mood and he had been so close to telling her, but there was no way. She would just freak out. She'd probably ground him for the next century or two. He was absentmindedly clicking away on his pen and stared over to Ned. Telling Ned. He'd freak out too. Like, a lot. The possibility that he'd let something slip were… well… enormous. There was the benefit that people most likely wouldn't pay all that much attention to Ned geeking out, so even if he'd let something slip…

Peter sighed. He kinda missed his window of opportunity there though. Ned kept going on and on about Spider-Man. He frequently wanted to theorize and Peter had stubbornly feigned disinterest and oblivion one too many times. Or ten. Ned would be mad. Peter had kept this to himself for so long and -

"Mr. Parker!"

Peter sat up straight and dropped his pen.

"Now that I finally have your full attention, what can you tell me about today's Leap Day?"

Peter blinked and rummaged his brain. "Erm. On Leap Day it's a custom that women propose to men."

Mrs. Warren pursed her lips. "I was really talking about the astronomical significance. This is a school for Science and Technology after all."

A balled up piece of paper hit him in the side of the head. He turned and stared into Flash's face. "LOSER!" He mouthed and Peter's head shot back to the front.

"Ms. Jones?"

"One solar year lasts for approximately 365 days and 6 hours. To account for the extra hours accumulated as a result of the 365-day Gregorian calendar our society adopted, an additional day is added every four years to prevent an otherwise unavoidable shift in our seasons and the accompanying confusion that would cause. February 29th is added every four years to align the calendar with the Sun's apparent position."

Michelle turned towards him and gave him an unfazed look. He pouted and dove under the table for his pen.

_ He had known that…_

"Mr. Parker!"

Peter shot up. With a loud bang, he hit his head on the tabletop in the process.

"What consequences arise from a Leap Day being added every four years, Mr. Parker?"

Peter rubbed the back of his head. _Come on, focus_… "The... erm. There are people born on a Leap Day, that will have to... erm... Different countries determine February 28 or March 1st for when people come of age because when they turn 18 or 21 -"

"We're still talking about science here, Mr. Parker." She turned away from him. "Mr. Leeds."

"A Solar year is not exactly 365 days and 6 hours long. Adding one day every 4 years means an excess of about 44 minutes for every year or 3 extra days every 400 years. To compensate that three days are removed from the calendar every 400 years."

"Very good, Mr. Leeds." Ned shot him a questioning look, but Peter just shrugged.

"Mr. Parker, last chance at redemption for you: How is this adjustment implemented?"

Peter cleared his throat. "The general rule of a leap year occurring every 4 years is suspended for selected years. A year divisible by 100 is not a Leap Year unless it is also divisible by 400."

"Can you give me an example."

"The years 2000 and 2400 are Leap Years while 2100, 2200 and 2300 won't be."

"Glad to have you back, Mr. Parker."

Peter fell back in his chair and bit back a deep sigh as he stared down at his notes.

_This is torture..._

* * *

#

* * *

Tony was lying on his back, panting. He used his arms to block another one of Natasha's blows. Quickly he rolled to the side, got onto his knees before he leaned back to doge her and then he was back up on his feet.

"Come on now, Tony, that was the easy part." She teased him to come closer, to put in a counter strike. "You never gonna get me on the mat if all you do is duck down."

Tony circled her, kept his arms up. She'd have to think of something better. A bit of chatter was not gonna be enough to distract him.

"Come on, old man. Show me what you got."

He kept focusing on the movement of her legs, two steps to the right, half a step back. She could bait him all she wanted. Attacking Natasha would only leave him pinned down on the mat. And not in a good way.

"We're not on the mat yet, Nat."

She jumped towards him as soon he had opened his mouth. Predictable. He jumped out of her way and turned back towards her, as she sailed past him. She fell into a light run, once she realized she'd missed him and shook out her arm.

"Seriously Tony, do you want to train or do you want to dance around in a circle for half an hour." She walked back towards him, annoyance clearly detectable in her voice.

"Hey, I'm trying to survive here. I attack you, I'm done. And, in time, so is one of my spinal disks."

"What's going on?" Rogers walked over from the other side of the gym.

Natasha shook her head. "We're fine, Steve."

They took positions again, circling each other.

"Alright, let's see some action." Rogers had his arms crossed and still studied their encounter.

_Great._ He had to keep his eyes on Natasha's step sequence. He'd need to find an in. There had to be a pattern. Some way she would give away her next move. Last time when her legs-.

"Come on, guys." Rogers clapped his hands.

Right away Natasha stepped towards him, then brought her leg up into a back-turn as she aimed a kick at Tony. Once again he dodged her leg and stayed up on his feet.

"Come on, Tony! You can't wait forever! You have to attack at some point!" Rogers prodded him.

He feigned a step forward and jumped to the side as soon as Natasha answered his movement with a leap towards him. Tony ducked to the other side. If he managed to circle her from behind he might… Nope. She was just too fast.

"Put more energy into it!"

Tony rolled his eyes, dropped his arms and turned towards Rogers. "Dude, can you maybe -"

Just as he had turned, Natasha had launched into another attack and kicked him square into the chest. It rushed all the air out of his lungs and he crashed to the ground, Natasha on top of him. His head hit the mat, his eyes widened and he gasped for air. Natasha climbed of him quickly as he was still panting and coughing for oxygen. A deep sting in his chest already grew into a sharp pain.

Rogers had let out a yell and jabbered something that didn't make it all the way into Tony's consciousness. Natasha kneeled next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Tony, are you ok?"

He looked up at her, his body still in shock from the forceful impact and struggled to even out his breathing. He gave a short nod, laid back and closed his eyes. Urgh… That hurt. Breathing through the pain didn't really do anything for him so he decided to go for the path of distraction. He focused on the noise which turned out to be a bad idea.

"What the hell was that? Can you take this seriously for once in your life, Tony?"

"Shut up, Rodgers." His voice raw and croaking. His lung still burned.

"What was that? You're supposed to spar, not procrastinate till practice is over."

"Shut up, Rodgers!" He repeated, his voice a little steadier.

"It's disrespectful!"

"Oh my god." He groaned and opened his eyes. He popped himself up on his lower arms and glared at Rodgers. "I'm waiting for her to make a mistake. It's the only way I can get her. She's faster and more agile than me and completely unpredictable."

"Great, is that what we have to look forward to fighting alongside you? You'll just be waiting around for the bad guys to make some mistakes?"

"Usually I have a little more firepower at my disposal to launch an attack," he gritted his teeth. _Asshole._

"You can't always rely on your suit, Tony!" Natasha chimed in.

"Which is, why I'm not in it right now..." Were they serious right now? How was he supposed to overpower the superspy in close combat?!

Rogers still loomed over him, arms crossed and glared down at him disapprovingly. "Well, I assume you're done for the day."

He turned and walked back to the other side of the gym where Wanda and Sam had stopped and watched what was going on. "Just keep going guys. The rest of us is not done yet."

Tony threw his arms up in defeat. _Just great._ Natasha bend down and offered him a hand up.

"I'm sorry. Just say something _before_ you fall out of position next time."

He bit his tongue and swallowed the testy retort that was already forming in his mind.

"You good?"

"Peachy."

He stalked out of the gym towards his bedroom. Oh, all the kinds of ways he could spend the day kicking Rogers' ass. He walked in and started to throw his clothes off in a huff, but winced when he pulled the shirt over his head. A glance in the mirror revealed an angry looking red blotch on his chest that was going to develop into a nice, big bruise. He poked around the area and tested out the pain level. Nothing too severe, his sternum felt like it was okay, only the scars left from the Arc looked angrier than usual, their white tissue more pronounced against the darker tone his skin was taking on. He closed his eyes, rubbing his face.

_He had to just let it go. He couldn't change it, no point in obsessing about it._

He opened his eyes and stared at himself in the mirror. That would bruise properly. He sighed and lifted his gaze from his chest to look into his own eyes.

"Just... let it go."

He stepped into the shower and let the hot water engulf his body. His brian just needed to shut up!

Half an hour later he was sitting behind his desk and stared at his phone. 11:15 am on a Monday was no time for Potts to be free to talk so he might as well save the call for later. He didn't trust his mood anyway and he certainly didn't need another conversation with Pepper to turn confrontational.

"FRIDAY has any response come in from the contractors you contacted regarding the penthouse remodel?"

**_"There is one offer, Sir. But I recommend waiting for additional responses. The proposal seems quite overpriced including an excessive amount of hours."_**

"More than you calculated, I assume?"

_**"About 2.3 times the hours I estimate necessary for the remodel, Boss."**_

"Well, we can't be everybody's golden goose. Let's wait for the other proposals then."

_**"Sir, Miss Romanov is waiting in front of the lab, asking to be admitted."**_

Tony sighed. "Let her in, tell her I'm upstairs." He jumped out of his chair.

_**"She's on her way, Sir."**_

"Thanks, FRI."

Tony cleared some of the SI documents off the table and threw them into his desk drawer along with the ice pack, that he had been pressing onto his chest. There was a key to lock them on his desk somewhere… He was confident that Natasha would find her way into those if she was out for SI intel, but that was no reason to make it easy for her.

"You up there?"

"Yup." He'd just cleared the shelf space behind him of any obvious documents that could have potential NDAs connected to them and turned to see her walk up the steps from the lab.

"I don't think I've ever been up here. Is this your secret man cave?"

"I usually make it a rule not to invite people up here. The board encourages me to keep SI business at arm's length from the Superhumans."

Natasha shrugged, "Not a Superhuman."

"Yeah, well that's debatable."

She smirked and indicated the plate and cups she was carrying. "I brought coffee and sandwiches..."

"Well, in that case, I'm inclined to make an exception." He sat back down and reached for the cup she'd just placed on the desk in front of him.

"Uh-uh, first things first, how's your chest." She swatted his hand away.

"It's fine." He reached out once more and again her hand pushed him away from the coffee mug.

"Come on, let me see!"

"Ha! Yeah, that's not happening."

"Don't be a baby, take that shirt off and let me see."

"Natasha, no."

"Don't be such a prude!"

He felt a flush creeping up his neck.

"I'm in a crime-fighting boy band, whose members feel the need run around shirtless every time they even slight exercise. Believe me, a shirtless dude does not faze me at this point."

He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back in his chair. "I told you, it's fine. I checked it earlier. No harm done."

She narrowed her eyes. "If I let you have the coffee first, will you tell me why you're being weird about this?"

"The only weird thing is your obsession to have me take my shirt off." He shook his head, leaning back in the chair.

"Tony, I hurt you. I'm sorry. Let me help."

He leaned forward. "Coffee first!"

She smiled and slid the cup over to his side of the desk. He took a gulp and pointed her towards the chair on the other side of the desk. Natasha just sat there, watching him, waiting.

"Stop analyzing me."

"I'm not."

"Liar."

"No more than usual..."

He sighed and got up. "Fine. Let's get this over with." He grabbed the bottom of his shirt, carefully working himself out of it, determined not to let any discomfort show. Natasha got up and stepped around the desk to have a closer look.

She grimaced, pinching her nose. "How's your sternum."

"It's fine." He shifted a bit, certain that she was taking in more than just the angry redness of the bruise. Maybe it was his nerves but the scar tissue from the Arc seemed to stand out even more than it did in his bathroom earlier.

"Nothing cracked?"

"I don't think so." She didn't touch him. That was a relief. She ended up shrugging and only pointed back to his shirt.

"I'm going to save my breath about seeing a doctor if it doesn't improve over the next couple of days. You should at least ice it though."

His shirt pulled back on, Tony let himself fall back into his chair. He unlocked the top drawer and fished out the ice pack.

"Aw, Tony! You're hiding your ice pack from me? Not sure if I should be touched or offended..." She offered him the plate with the sandwiches she had brought.

They sat in silence for a minute eating and drinking their coffee.

"You don't have to hang out here just because you feel guilty, you know."

"I don't feel guilty. I'm just sorry. Different story."

"I see. Sorry, I wasn't aware of that distinction..."

"We spared, you got hurt. It happens. You can't let Steve get under your skin like that, Tony. I know the team's had a few rough months and Steve's team building missions aren't necessarily your cup of tea, but we need you on this team. They need to know that you have their backs."

Tony shook his head. "I have their backs! I've always had their backs."

"I know that, but you know how the guys tick. You're an anomaly to them. They don't understand how you work - honestly, few people do - and Bruce isn't here..." She bit her lip. "He isn't here to buffer it anymore."

Tony stared at his coffee. He really didn't want to snap at her but his temper wasn't easy to control. "Is this where you tell me not to move back to the Tower?"

"No, actually, I think, it's a good idea, as long as you don't use it as an excuse to stay hidden in your lab over there even more than you currently are here."

"I already told Rodgers. I'm still going to keep a lab at the Compound to work on the Equipment and things."

Natasha nodded. "Good. You guys need to get your shit together."

He drummed his finger and bit the inside of his cheeks. _He was_ keeping his shit to himself if only certain other people wouldn't-

"Tony."

"Yes, I understand."

"Look at me!"

He did, lips pressed flat.

"I'm not saying this is all you. Not by a long shot. It's not all just them either though."

He nodded, his eyes back on the cup. "Understood."

She got up. "I'll talk to Steve. I'll try to buffer you, but I need you to pull your own weight."

"I'm trying."

She nodded. "Good. I'll see you for practice tomorrow."

His eyes shot back up at her.

"Conference room 2B. Bring a pen. We'll be going over your close combat technique."


	7. Old Wounds, Fresh Cuts - Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Old Wounds, Fresh Cuts**

It had been a long week for Peter. His frustration had continually been building up and every day turned out crappier than the previous one. His mind constantly wanted to drift off even now as he read through his notes from biology class. Well, Ned's notes. Peter never really was the kind of student who had to sit down and study. He was lucky enough to just pick up most of the facts by listening in class, which came in handy with all the afternoons and evenings he spent with Spider-Man patrols. His level of frustration was directly proportionate to his listening abilities though, it seemed. After the embarrassing episode in Mrs. Warren's class, he'd been called out repeatedly by different teachers throughout the week for daydreaming. He wasn't really daydreaming though, he'd been building his case. He was bursting with his big secret. He needed to talk to someone - really anyone – but first had to try and figure out the best way to tell Ned or May. It was driving him mad. The constant tension and worry that he would let something slip. Everything he had experienced was piling up in his mind and there was nobody to unload his stories on or bounce his questions off.

For more than a week he had mulled over his speeches to May and Ned in his head, there was one thing he'd realized though. He didn't know enough. He didn't really understand what had happened to him - well, apart from the obvious result of the radioactive spider bite that had left him with spider powers, somehow. But he had no idea what had actually happened to his body. If he were to tell Ned he'd be sure of one thing: he'd be bombarded with a million questions about his powers and what it meant and how it worked and how it felt. And he didn't have a single answer to any of it. No, it just wasn't an option. As much as all the secrecy started to bother him, he first had to find some more answers.

Now, telling May would not just mean a million questions in addition to a thousand reproachful scoldings. If he ever wanted to even start to work on getting May's blessing to keep his Spider-Man career going, he would definitely have to be able to answer some of those questions. So far, he'd really just gone with the flow. He tested out his strength and his boundaries. He had no idea if his powers were at all evolving or changing. Was he as strong as he had been that first time he had surprised himself with actually being able to lift a car? He was healing faster now than he had before the bite. A lot faster. Any scratch would be gone in a few hours. He had cut his finger helping May prepare dinner the other week. It had hurt like hell and the cut had been deep enough to send May running for the first-aid kit.

"Let me see that." May hurried back from the bathroom, first-aid kit in hand."

"It's fine, I can do it!"

"Don't be silly, show me!"

He took off the paper towel he'd been pressing on his left index finger and let her take his hand.

"Oh, god! Put that towel back on your finger and put some pressure on it!" She opened the kit, cursed under her breath. Peter could see her shuffle through the limited material still left in the box.

"It's fine, May! It'll stop bleeding on its own in a bit!"

"You, be quiet!" She took a deep breath and Peter groaned in frustration.

"Seriously, May, I know you can't stand blood. It'll be fine."

She had found a piece of wound-dressing and a small roll of gauze.

"Finger!"

He rolled his eyes and stretched out his left hand towards her. She dragged him closer to the kitchen sink and turned on the water. After she had tested the temperature she eased his finger under the soft stream and swallowed hard eyes on the blood flowing out of his wound as it mixed with the water. "Does that hurt?"

"It stings a little, but it's not too bad."

"Alright." She held his hand and turned his finger from side to side to clean the wound. Peter could feel it throbbing and took a deep breath, careful to be quiet about it. He struggled to keep a straight face. May would freak out if he let this get to him. It did sting. He'd dealt with small scrapes and the odd bump since becoming Spider-Man. Especially in the beginning when he was still figuring out his strength, his clumsiness earned him a few scraped knees and bruises when he occasionally got knocked against a building wall before he was able to completely control his swinging. Nothing too serious though. Nothing too hurtful. And the injuries disappeared within a few hours. As he was watching the blood flow freely from the deep cut in his finger, he truly realized for the first time since he had started his crime-fighting that a proper injury, if something were to pierce his skin… It would hurt. A lot. His Spidey-powers were no help here. They didn't dull the pain. The longer he looked at his finger, the stronger the sting seemed to get. Were his senses amplifying the pain?

"Peter, are you alright? You've gone all white!" Her hand softly ruffled his hair, then wandered down cupping his face. "Should we take you to the emergency room? Get this stitched up?"

"No!" He shook his head and pulled his hand back. The blood-soaked paper towel tightly in his hand, he quickly covered the finger with it. "It's just a small cut. I'll be fine!"

It would heal super quick. There was absolutely no way he'd let May pay a ridiculous emergency room bill for something that his healing factor would handle in no time!

"It's pretty deep, Peter. It will probably scar."

"It's just a cut."

May bit her lip and studied him. "Alright then." She reached for his hand again, carefully applied the wound dressing and then wrapped it with gauze.

"We'll look at it in the morning. If there's any sign of infection, we'll go straight to the doctor."

Peter's eye widened. "It's... it'll be just fine!" He had no idea how fast this cut would heal, but he assumed fast enough that May would get mighty suspicious come morning time if his finger happened to look almost untouched.

"Go sit down, honey. I'll finish dinner."

That night he could hardly sleep at all. His alarm was set to 5:30. That would give him an hour before May got up, but he just couldn't go to sleep. His mind mulled over all the possibilities again and again. Well, the two possibilities he could come up with to keep May in the dark about his accelerated healing speed. He could either leave the apartment before she was properly awake and would remember that she wanted to check his finger or he would have to, well, recreate the wound. Take that knife from the kitchen counter and slice up his own finger deep enough to convince May. His heart would race just at the thought and a shiver ran through his body. A glance to his bedside table told him that it was 1:20 am. He was slowly stroking his finger before he softly pressed onto the wound. It was still tender and the cut throbbed slightly, but there was no telling how far along the healing process had gotten. It was still covered by gauze and he wasn't really into the idea to take it off. What if the cut was gone come morning. He gasped for air. He would have to run for the kitchen and grab the knife to cut his finger. What if the panic had made him forget which finger was injured in the first place?

"Stop it." His voice shook. He needed to calm the eff down.

In the morning Peter just couldn't do it. His head would fill with the beat of his erratic heart and he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. Just the thought of pulling back the gauze... no! By the time May got up, he was already dressed for school, really just waiting for her to come out of her bedroom so he could shout a quick "Totally forgot, early project meeting with Ned!" and dash from the apartment before May could even answer. It took him another 30 minutes and a nice morning sandwich from Delmar's to muster up the nerve to take off the bandage.

A red line was still clearly visible, but the wound had completely dried up and was almost closed. He had let out a shaky breath and bit the nails on his right hand. All he could do was to just stare at the finger. Come evening, there wouldn't be much of a wound left for May to inspect. Unless...

His head propped up in his right hand, Peter had his elbow resting on his desk. He had abandoned his biology notes to stare at his left index finger. No scar, no nothing that reminded of the incident from a few weeks ago. Nothing that would suggest that he had cut this finger what had felt like to the bone. In the rational part of his mind, he knew that it hadn't been that deep of a cut, but to his panicked brain, that's what it had felt like. Definitely deep enough that is would have taken a normal person a couple of weeks to heal. In his panic to keep May in the dark, he had reopened that wound twice a day for over a week. It was probably the most messed up thing he'd done since he had become Spider-Man. Well, the most messed up thing he had done, period. May could never find out about that particular incident. Even if he could muster up the courage to tell her about his Spidey-powers, this little anecdote was too much.

He wasn't sure if his healing had changed since he had first developed his enhancements. If it had improved over time or if his powers came in all at once. There was no way to tell and his healing factor was definitely not among the things he would poke around in his quest for answers. The less he needed that particular skill, the better.

He could test out his strength and his agility and then just assume whatever increase or decrease he could record over time would be directly related to his healing factor as well. More important would be to figure out if the bite had changed his human makeup, his core. He reached over for Ned's biology notes on the discovery of the DNA Double Helix. This would have to be his starting point.

Tony was sitting outside on the platform of his Penthouse, coffee in hand. He'd been discussing the remodel with two different contractors all morning and most of the afternoon. It hadn't been hard to pick out the more qualified one, or rather the one who would promise to deliver results promptly. A little bonus incentive had persuaded the man to start the next day. Never let it be said that money can't buy happiness. His own floors in the tower with all the personal freedom of movement that entailed was all the happiness he could wish for right now. His plan was unfolding nicely and with the little extra financial injection, the groundwork would be done in about a week. It was only a few walls and a proper paint job after all. He turned back around and headed inside. It was only March and up on the 68th floor, the wind tended to be chilly.

"FRIDAY, I'm going to need a few suggestions on what furniture to buy."

_**"Of course, Sir. I can research the latest interior design blogs and trade fair articles for current trends."**_

"Hmm..."

_**"I could also forward you additional information on room arrangements corresponding to the latest scientific findings concerning its influence on mood and personality attributes."**_

"Didn't we redo SI HQ in LA last year?"

_**"Yes, Sir. Miss Potts oversaw most of the remodel and the coordination of the interior design. I can inform her about your desire to-"**_

"No!"

_**"Very well, Sir."**_

"Just... just send me the list of the furniture she bought... I just want to browse through it."

_**"Will do, Boss."**_

Tony looked down at his phone. It had been over a week. He'd tried to call her last Saturday, but she hadn't answered. He had tried again before Rhodey came to visit. Honestly, he hadn't been surprised when she hadn't picked up. At first Tony had been glad when the call went to voicemail and he hadn't bothered to leave a message. He had not really been ready to talk to her and she had all the right in the world to still be pissed. He had called again on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday... every day for over a week. He sighed. After a week, on Saturday he had left the first voicemail, had asked her to call him back, told her he didn't want to apologize via her answering machine. But she hadn't. He'd tried again every day at noon and after the evening news when he'd be less likely to disturb her routine.

Just as he was about to put the phone back into his pocket if rang and Rogers face popped up on the screen.

"Urgh..."

**_"Boss, we have a code B1."_**

He picked up the call at once. "Rogers, shoot."

"Subject we've been monitoring. Biochemical. Van heading west from Queens towards Manhattan, probably Queensboro Bridge. Target assumed to be the subway. Lexington Avenue station on 59th street most convenient on the route."

The suit had assembled around Tony.

"I'm at the Tower, only a minute trip for me."

"We're leaving the Compound in a couple of minutes. I need you to wait."

"Wait? Are you serious?"

"You can't handle this on your own. They might set it off prematurely if they know we're onto them!"

"Yeah, cause the Quinjet will be super low key. Come on, Cap!"

"The Quinjet can be cloaked. We're boarding now. Stay out of sight!"

Rogers hung up and left Tony planted in the living room of the penthouse in the Iron Man suit. Okay… what was the most inconspicuous way that he could get himself 17 blocks to the north?

"FRI, did we get any tracking data from the team to monitor the subject?" He went outside onto the platform, his gaze towards Queens. "And, also, the team?"

_**"Not so far, Boss."**_

Tony opened up the channel to the team com "Cap, do you read me?"

Radio silence. They were not in range then. Yet. He paced up and down the platform.

"Screw this." He simply jumped off to the southern side of the tower, circled around it and headed up Park Avenue. He kept himself high enough to be out of sight of the pedestrians and slow enough not to cause too much attention. The high Manhattan buildings to his right covered him for the eyes of anyone coming from the east.

"Guys, do you read me?" He made it 57th street in about a minute and had landed on the Four Seasons only a couple blocks from the subway station he assumed Rogers had been talking about.

"FRIDAY, pick out any vans coming over the bridge."

_**"Will do, Boss."**_

"Guys?"

"Tony, we read you." Natasha's voice came through, still crackling. "We're about 10 miles out. Slowing down for final approach."

"I'm on top of the Four Season. What am I looking for?"

Rogers gave him the update. "White Van, no markings. 4 people. It's heading toward the bridge. Stay put for now, Tony."

"Alright, Cap. Mind sending over the tracking info?"

"Sam is sending you the data we have."

Just then the van appeared on the interface of his helmet.

"FRIDAY calculates that they are three minutes out."

"We're here. Will leave the Quinjet cloaked overhead the station." Nat's voice was strained as she was focused on the different levers and buttons to get the Quinjet in position.

"Vision, get yourself down underground in case they try to run down the steps before we can get to all of them. Sam, I want you popped up on one of the middle sized buildings overhead the entrance to the station. Wanda, you're taking the other side. Nat and I will get down onto the sidewalk. Tony, any way you can make your way over here without causing a scene among the pedestrian?"

"Well, I managed to come up Park just fine..."

"Alright, I want you to stay on the corner of Park in case we miscalculated and they continue further west. If they do, engage. Wait for my sign though. Otherwise, we'll need to you get the civilians out of our way."

"Copy that." Tony sighed and made his way off the Four Seasons further to the north. "They're on the bridge now."

"Alright, everyone. Sam, Wanda, give us a heads up when you have eyes on them."

A short "Copy, in position." came through from Wanda. Sam's drone showed up on Tony's radar.

"Redwing has eyes on them. Scanning now. 4 dudes, alright. They all have breathing masks with them. Two of them carry what looks like vials. One might be a decoy. They're coming off the bridge now, should get off the feeder any moment."

"Everyone in place?" The team confirmed their positions. Tony had made it to 59th street, staying high, he once again used the building on the corner as a shield.

"They're here Cap," Sam spoke in a low but clear voice.

"Copy, I have eyes on them as well. We need to find the weapon before we engage. Wanda?"

"Van parked across the street. They're getting out."

"Tall dude, leather Jacket is #1 one. The other tall dude with no hair has the second."

"Wanda, you keep an eye out for those vials to appear. Secure them when you can."

Then everything happened super fast. Bald, tall guy broke away from the group and headed towards the stairs that lead down to the subway. Natasha was on his heal, immediately warned Vision so they could trap him between them. Cap, Sam, and Wanda engage the other three and Wanda tried to immobilize Leather-Jacket. As soon as Tony could tell that they were made by the terrorists, he swooped in, stopped and diverted traffic. He urged people to run into the other direction as he got closer to the action.

"We got the bald guy. Got the vial, clear liquid, probably the decoy." Nat was breathing heavily.

"I'm tying him to the handrail on the stairs. Natasha is making her way up to the street." Visions voice, in contrast, was the personification of calm.

"Did anyone inform the authorities to halt the subway line?" Tony had almost made it to Cap and Wanda. Sam flew overhead them. Maybe he would have circled around them, but the men had pulled out guns and backtracked slowly towards the bridge.

"Not the time, Tony." Not the time? Was Cap serio- An explosion rocked the street and set the cars in front of them on fire.

"They pulled out the grenades."

"You didn't say anything about grenades, Sam!"

"Sorry, Cap. Grenades were implied."

Tony shot quickly toward the smoke, the suits scanners outlined moving bodies even though his own view was obstructed by smoke.

"They're pulling in people." Tony updated the others.

"He's right, 7 civilians now lined around them as shields. They keep moving towards the bridge." Sam had landed on top of The Home Depot and peered through the smoke.

"Wanda, any chance you can access that vial?"

"Sorry, Steve. It's fastened somewhere and won't budge."

"We need to get those people out!" Tony could feel Rogers follow behind him. "Tony, what do you see?"

"Two of them are threatening the civilians, one of them Leather-Jacket. The third is pulling more people in."

"Distract them and Wanda and I will get the people out!"

"Distract them how? I go at them, they might set off the device!"

"Guys, something's happening." Sam pulled their attention back towards the terrorists turned kidnappers. Tony had just made it through the smoke, Rogers on his heals.

"Nat, where are you at?"

"I'm on your left, have eyes on them. Wanda's hovering somewhere above me. Fuck, this is getting tricky."

Tony had his eyes still fixed on the group in front of him when Leather-Jacket stepped out in front of the crowd of hostages. He dragged a young woman by her neck, vial pressed against her face. His henchmen still fired shots towards Wilson and Wanda above them.

"Avengers," his voice cold and mocking. "How about you fuck off and everyone here gets to go home in one piece?"

Tony forced out the breath he had just realized he had been holding when Rogers' voice came quietly over the comm.

"Wanda, any chance of getting that vial?" Another round of bullets delayed her answer to Rogers question.

"He's gripping it too tightly. If I interfere, he might just smash it right there. Vis, can you get around them?"

"Certainly!"

"Wait, Vision. If we have someone shot out from behind them, it might escalate the situation." Steve was right behind him now. "Tony, what do we do?"

The comm stayed quiet then. Tony mulled the situation over. Shit, there was no obvious path here. He could take them out execution-style but there was always a chance that the vial got smashed. If they would back off, Leather-Jacket might just strap on his mask, smash it and run for it. They couldn't advance any further or he might smash it either way in a panic and sacrifice himself in the process, so they stayed put.

"Seriously, Cap, now you come to me for advice on a maneuver?"

Rogers huffed. "We need to do something!"

"I'm aware of that!" Tony gritted his teeth. His glance wandered over the buildings to their right side. "They're only a few feet from the crossing to 3rd Avenue. They'll probably want to move further down and then we'll have the other two guys disappearing off to somewhere while we're kept here by Leather-Jacket. He'll give them a head start and pop that vial, probably put on his mask and take his chances to outrun us through the hostages." Tony took a deep breath and added in a low voice. "We have to engage, now."

Rogers' huff echoed through the comm. "We engage now and those hostages will die and who knows how many more as this is swept across town."

"We wait and they'll probably die anyway and we let the terrorists escape to do it again." Tony flexed his muscles and got the suit into positions to strike. "I'll set up a headshot. Wanda could try to contain whatever's in that vial if he does crack it before I get to him."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Well, give it your best shot."

"Tony, you can't -" Rogers had taken a step towards him but froze when he realized. There was a commotion among the hostages. Leather-Jacket turned and looked back and forth. Before either of the Avengers could react he was covered in a cocoon-like an oversized caterpillar.  
The Avengers minus Tony were just as stunned as the hostages and actually missed a beat to follow the other two now escaping terrorists. _Oh boy…_ Tony blew out a deep breath and shot forward. "Come on, guys!" He shooed the remaining hostages out of the way and made them run towards the subway for cover. The henchmen skedaddled towards 3rd Avenue, headed into different directions while they kept up the firestorm to shield themselves. One of them threw another grenade not into the direction of the Avengers but towards the bridge. Their target dodged the grenade. Spider-Man then pinned the shell onto the street behind him and ducked at it exploded. The man dropped his arms, turned and stared at the hole the grenade had left in the middle of the road.

"I got this Cap, go after them!"

"Vision, Wanda, make your way to the left. Sam, come with me!"

Tony focused on Leather-Jacket and the woman who still stood right next to him.

"Nat, we need a perimeter," he quietly told her over the comm as he landed right in front of the terrorist and his young hostage.

Natasha was right behind him, shouting orders at the law enforcement officers that had shown up, as he let his face mask retract. "Hey, young lady, you'll be just fine, alright. Deep breaths." He gave her what he hoped looked like a confident nod. The asshole had his legs and left arm webbed to the road and was immobilized. The other arm and the vial inside his hand glued to the girl. Just then did Tony realize that the girl too had been webbed to the street and to her kidnapper.

"Hey, Spiderling! Snap out of it and get over here!"

Spider-Man flinched before he tore his glance from the hole in the ground and the burning cars around him. He rolled back and forth on his feet before he took a few slow and small steps over to where Natasha now tried to soothe the girl. Tony pulled at the web on her arm but got nowhere.

"Mr. Stark... Good to see you again." Nat's head shot up at Tony, her brow furrowed.

"We need to get this off. I really don't want to use the laser around her."

"She needs to stay still, 'til you get that vial out of his hand first." Spider-Man kept his distance from them. As he spoke his eyes wandered up and down the street. "If that thing in his hand is what it seems to be, all these people need to get away fast."

The girl's eyes widened and her breathing started to border on hyperventilating.

"Thanks for that, Captain Obvious." Nat's voice came low and venomous. "Tony, what is going on here."

Tony shook his head and her a look. Now was _not_ the time! The gauntlet on his right hand retracted now as well and he cupped the girl's face. "Alright, breath with me. You're okay. We'll get you out of this, alright." He mimicked a couple of deep breaths until he saw the Spiderling come closer.

He put a hand on the girl's shoulder and awkwardly patted it twice. "He can't move his hand. I webbed it so he can't smash it or drop it." Then he looked up at Tony and tilted his head a bit.

_Great._ He couldn't drop it as long as he was glued in place. Glued to _her_. When they would free her, they would also free him.

_Just great._


	8. The Spider's fight in Manhattan - Chap 8

**The Spider's fight in Manhattan - ****Chapter 8  
**

If someone had told Peter that morning, that he'd be fighting alongside the Avengers just because he followed a tingling of his Spidey-senses after school... Yeah, sure, he'd had a couple of unreal run-ins with Tony Stark over the last two weeks, but this... He was literally helping out the Avengers. And he was shaking in his boots for every second of it.

Mr. Stark had his eyes on him expectantly as if _he_ was supposed to know how to get them out of this pickle. He'd glued the dude to the girl. It seemed like the obvious solution, or at least the only one that had jumped to Peter's mind in the moment. That thing that was still firmly lodged in the dude's had, well, if his Spidey-senses hadn't already made the hairs on his arm stand up the Avengers' reactions to him would have been enough to know. It was some kind of weapon and the dude had better not drop it. So, Peter had made sure he couldn't. But that was it. This wasn't his mission. He had no idea how to even be on a mission. Also, a sincere "thank you, Spider-Man" would have been nice, but instead Black Widow looked at him as if she was going to murder him in cold blood as soon as he'd turn his back. Once again, Peter was thankful for the mask that covered the shade of white his face had surely turned.

"Nat, why don't you stay with the girl. We'll be right back." Peter gulped. Stark walked up to him and shoved him out of earshot of the two webbed up figures.

"What did you do?"

Peter bit his lip. His voice was stuck in his throat and couldn't easily betray him. He tried to swallow his insecurity. "You mean, besides trying to help you guys out?"

Stark took hold of his arm and turned Peter to face him. "What did you do with his hand, genius!"

"I..." Peter shifted his weight, very conscious of Iron Man's hold of his arm. "I made sure he can't flex his hand and then immobilized him."

"Why can we not just get the web off her face? Is it going to unravel the hold on him if we do?"

"I... I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"I'm not usually the one who unties them," Peter stammered

"So you're telling me that you have no idea how your... your equipment works?" the frustration apparent in Stark's voice.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I was just trying to -"

"Yeah, I know. I know." Stark exhaled. "Tell me what you do know. What would you expect to happen when we free her."

"There is tension on the strands. They balance each other out. If you cut one side, the stress on the individual strings changes and it would probably at least partially implode on itself. I don't think it'd be enough for him to free his hand and drop… the thing. Whatever it is. But I think... I think the web would relax enough for him to be able to crush the vial and I assume... I assume we don't want that."

"No..." Stark let go of him and rubbed his face with the still gauntlet-less hand, "We don't want that," he mumbled under his breath. "Could just cut off the hand. He can't flex it if it's not attached to his arm."

Peter's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Not that anyone would know, thanks to the mask. Apparently, his shock was obvious enough to register with Stark though, for he rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. "It was a joke. Get a grip."

Peters jaw slammed shut as heat rose up to his cheeks. Of course. Of course, it was a joke. He'd known that if he hadn't been so thoroughly on edge. This was Iron Man in front of him. What the hell had he been thinking? He stuck his nose into Avengers business. Him!.

"Well, what would you do? Any suggestions on how we get out of this one?"

He didn't even know what he was doing half the time and now Iron Man expected him to solve this? Peter just stared at the ground, scratching his arm, mumbling some incomprehensible mash-up of "Don't know" and "Sorry" and "not sure".

Stark turned away from him with a huff and stared at the girl and guy as if they held the answer. A light shiver went down Peter's spine. The Black Widow was approaching them.

"Cap wants an update. Wanda and Vision caught one of them, Steve and Sam are still on the chase."

Stark rubbed his hand across his face once more. "He's going to somehow put this mess on me, isn't he?"

Wait, what now? His eyes shot up to the pair of them and found that Black Widow's eyes rested on himself. Not a single muscle in her face moved to give away her thoughts as she turned her back towards Mr. Stark and spoke in a low voice. Yeah, that would not be good enough to keep Peter from listening in. Advanced hearing FTW!

"Have you been meeting up with the Spider-dude? Without telling us?"

Stark shook his head. "I checked him out after his run-in with Potts. That's it."

"Tony, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to keep you in their good graces if you keep stuff like this to yourself!"

"I'm not consciously excluding anyone from some kind of secret mission here. I was looking out for Peeper, that's it. Not a big deal."

At that, the Black Widow turned back towards him. Peter's eyes shot back over to the cocooned people and his hand sprung up scratching his chin. Was this how people looked like when they were super unsuspicious and total not listening to conversations they weren't supposed to hear? His hands were sweating. Well, not just his hands. Heat rushed through his body and he'd never felt more obvious in his whole life. He could feel her eyes on him, how she studied him. Then she turned her back and faced Stark again, her voice back to a regular level.

"What's the plan here, Tony. The girl is freaking out."

"We need to get the vial without giving him a chance to smash it in the process. It doesn't seem to be an option to free her before we deal with him because it's unclear what it will do to the immobilizing effect the webs have on his hand if we loosen them enough to get her out first."

"Cut off the hand and be done with it?"

Peter's eyes shot up at both of them as Black Widow just gave a shrug. "Shouldn't have been running around with biochemical weapons if he wants to keep all his limbs."

"Yeah, I don't think cutting off hands in the middle of the street between Lexington and 3rd is the kind of publicity the Avengers need right now." Peter gulped. Surely bad press wasn't the only thing that would hold Stark back from that particular approach… right? "We just need to find a way to secure the hand. Really shouldn't be all this complicated."

Peter hastily spoke up at this. Anything that would have everyone walk away with all their body parts attached. "He can't drop it, even if the web loosens when the girl's freed. His hand is webbed up tightly enough to prevent that. So, all we need to worry about is him not closing his hand. I could work some web around his fingers, pull them back. That should keep him from smashing it."

He kept his eyes on Tony, who first nodded and then shrugged at Black Widow.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Peter could feel the Black Widows stare on his very skin. She didn't even try to keep her voice down this time. "Are you seriously going to trust this dude, Tony?"

Stark shrugged again. "No reason, why he should get involved just to screw us over." His eyebrows shot up. Oh god, was that a question? Was Peter expecting to come up with an answer?

"I... no... I won't. Of course not, Mr. Stark."

The woman's expression didn't change though. "Never heard that one before..."

Stark just ignored her as he turned back to the two webbed up figures and beckoned Peter to follow along.

"Spiderling, your turn."

Peter stepped up to the guy, carefully spun out some web-strings. His arms were low and close to his body. The web shooters really didn't need to be on display for the two Avengers behind him. Black Widow stepped around the pair to look at Peter's work intently as he slowly worked the web through the layers in place around the guy's hand. He went about it slowly so he wouldn't damage them.

Once everything was in place, he held onto the web and pulling at it just enough so the dude wouldn't be able to flex his hand.

"Alright. This should do it. You can get her out."

"Should I do it?" Black Widow shot another look at Stark. Nobody could see him roll his eyes. Her confidence in him was overwhelming…

"It'll be fine. Just free her and then we can get the vial." Her hostility was getting on Peter's nerves. He'd done nothing but help people for months. And he'd just saved their asses. Why was she insistent to just think the worst of him?!

Mr. Stark used a blade from his suit to cut the girl free. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat when she was escorted off to the waiting EMT by the Widow. He had been pretty confident about the plan. Still, the relief that filled him when things worked out was soothing. Peter and Stark were in the middle of freeing the vial when she was back. Her cold voice ordered Peter to stay away.

"Chill, Nat."

"We don't need him this close by." She turned to Peter again. "I said, you stay back!"

"Fine, fine. I'm not even..." Peter huffed and retreated a few steps, his grip still firm on the web that secured the guy's hand. When her voice reached him again it had turned into the same low whisper as before. She might not want him to head this, but thank you, Spidey-senses!

"When we got this sorted, you need to bring the Spider-dude in! Steve will want to debrief him. It'll earn you a few points if you help him out with this, without being prompted by them."

Peter's eyes shot over to Stark who didn't seem to show a reaction at all.

"Tony!"

"I heard you. Little busy here." Stark's teeth were clenched.

Was Stark just in deep concentration on the job at hand or was his tone in response to her? Nevertheless, he couldn't help but gulp at the prospect of being brought in by Iron Man. They had a deal, that Stark owed him. A deal that Peter had technically never asked for but that sure would come in handy right about now. A deal that was made between the two of them that Stark could probably either outright deny or just not give a shit about. This was his own team asking for Peter's head on a platter. Peter's pulse jumped at the implications of that. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible!

The second Peter saw the vial safe in Stark's hands, he shot a web at the building behind himself, dropped the web he had held all this time and lunged himself off the ground. The Widow called after him, but his mind was fixed on his escape. He climbed up the building. _Think Peter!_ How would he get out of there fast? And most importantly without the Avengers on his tail all the way back to Queen?

He'd have to take a detour, let them think he went into a different direction before he would- Erm… was that a kite floating behind him? A miniature glider? He turned, one hand and both legs still glued to the building. Something hovered right in front of him, that enabled a kind of scanner? Peter reacted instinctively and webbed up the kite, which dropped to the ground immediately. Yeah, he needed to go! He launched into a swing to make his way down the street towards the river when the Falcon crashed into him in midair and left Peter squashed between the wall of the building and the Avenger. He struggled to free his arm. He needed to get himself out from underneath the Falcon.

"Don't you put your hands on my stuff!"

"Technically, my hands weren't on it." Peter pushed him off. His arms free, he was off and swung further along the building. Yeah, he really needed to get out of there! He shot a web at one of the buildings on the other side of the street. South! He would take a detour through Brooklyn. He would shake the Falcon off somewhere. Mid-swing he felt his web snap. He fell like a stone. His quick reflexes saved him just in time and he managed to catch himself before he crashed into the ground. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Stark and Black Widow hadn't moved and the Falcon was still hovering above him.

"There's nowhere to run, Spider. Better safe us all the headache and just come quietly!"

"That doesn't really work for me. Maybe another day..." He shot a series of webs towards the Falcon, more as a distraction to give himself some cover to run. He kept walking backward and still fired webs at him. Ok, new strategy. He would have to stay closer to the ground. That would give the guy less of an advantage over him. He was too vulnerable if he climbed up high with the Avenger being able to fly. Peter turned and ran around the street corner where he squarely smashed into what felt like a brick wall but turned out to be another Avenger.

"Not so fast, Spider."

"Sorry, Captain. Fast is the only speed I know." He shackled Captain America's hands with a few webs, turned in time to shoot another web towards the Falcon and then sprinted down 3rd Avenue. With a low swing, he brought himself to the other side of the street and ducked into the next street. Swinging through the streets was faster than running and Manhattan's street canyons were optimal for that. He never hovered more than a few feet above the ground, only swung higher if there were cars or other obstacles he needed to avoid. But the Falcon still followed behind him.

_Think, Peter. _How did one lose a bird? How the hell could he lose the bird?

He shot a glance over his shoulder. He had a bit of a head start, but the Bird-Guy was only a few seconds behind him.

If he could find an open door. He wouldn't be able to follow him into a building if he'd just close the door in his face! And then... then... creep out somewhere? He swung around another corner. But if he would pick the wrong building he might be trapped...

Peter's heart was racing, not from physical exhaustion but from nerves. He could hear its beat in his ears. If they caught him… If they found out who he was... For a second his thoughts lingered on the prospect of being interrogated by Captain America and the Falcon and he could feel his body shake in response. His eyes suddenly stung with tears. Fear. He took a deep breath. _Focus, Peter!_

"They're not gonna catch you. They're not gonna catch you." He repeated it quietly like a mantra while he cut around corners, crossed over the traffic on the streets and willed his mind to focus on finding a way out of this. He shot another glance over his shoulder.

Those wings were _huge_. He could only really glide through wider streets…

Peter had no idea where he even was. He needed to find a narrow alleyway. Fast. A small gap between two buildings. Something, anything he could slip through where the Bird-Guy couldn't follow. He had swung around two more corners till he spotted a narrow gap between two buildings. He made a beeline for it and fit through the narrow gap comfortably. He hurried down the path, then climbed the wall and halted in the middle of it. His breath was fast and shallow. Again, nerves more than exhaustion. He needed to calm the hell down. Pressed against a window, his feet rested on the sill. His eyes darted back and forth between the front and the back of the building as well as the top. The Bird-Guy - that's what Peter would call him from now on, that name was a lot less scary than "The Falcon" - would try to approach him somehow.

Sure enough, Peter could sense movement on the top of the building. It was getting darker but he had no illusions. The Bird-Guy was bound to have some form of technology - probably Stark-tech - that would allow him to see Peter even in pitch darkness.

"What's up, Spider? Getting tired? Need a little rest?"

Peter tried to slow down his breathing further. He couldn't let the Bird-Guy rile him up. _Think, Peter! Now what?_

"I mean sure, we can just wait here for backup to show up and drag you out of there. Or you can make it easier on yourself and just come in nice and quietly."

Bird-Guy mentioned backup because he was wanted to make Peter run again. He was more likely to grab him once he came out of the ally. Peter knew that much. It wouldn't work. Probably. The possibility of backup Avengers was not to be taken lightly. He couldn't sit things out on that window sill. But if Peter would manage to lure him down to him somehow... The narrow ally would be an advantage for him over the Bird-Guy.

"What are you hassling on me for? Shouldn't you be looking for the terrorist henchman?"

"I have my orders and right now that means bringing you in!"

"Well, if you're gonna be doing as good a job on me as you have on the bad guys, I guess I don't need to be worried!"

Silence from above him. Did he just hit a nerve there?

"Seriously, two of you couldn't keep track of one guy running away on foot?"

"I was gonna be nice about bringing you in, Spider. There is a less gentle version of this if you want to push it!"

Peter's pulse quickened some more. This was insane. He was so dead_._

"Gentle? You took a shot at me!"

"At your sticky stuff. Believe me, you'd feel the difference if I had been aiming at you."

"Is that what you told the terrorist before you lost him?"

The Bird-Guy leaned over the edge of the building above him, staring down into the ally way.

"You really are pissing me off now. Last chance to come quietly or I'll come and get you myself!"

Peter stayed quiet. Had that really been enough to provoke the Bird-Dude into close combat? In the narrow gap between these two buildings, Peter's strength and agility would be a massive advantage.

Only a few moments later the Bird-Dude actually shot down into the narrow gap. The window Peter was standing in would have shielded him at least partially from the attack, but all he really needed was a clear shot at the dude. As he sailed down towards Peter, his web caught the Bird-Guy, enclosed him like a sack of flour and with a second web Peter glued the bundle to the side of the wall.

"Thanks for that, Bird-Dude. You mentioned your Avenger buddies are coming, so I'm sure they'll pick you off the wall in no time."

"Sooner or later, I'll get you, you little freak!"

Peter's face fell a little. That was a bit of a cheap shot, but his adrenaline urged him on and he skipped out of the narrow alley. There could actually be Avenger back up on the way and he needed to move!

He had been hiding on a lower level fire escape a few blocks away from where he'd left the Bird-Dude for about an hour and a half now. His body felt stiff and frozen but his heart still hadn't slowed all the way down yet. Just the thought that he would soon need to get up and check if the coast was clear, sped up his pulse and let the hair on his arms stand up straight. The Avengers worked with tech he couldn't even dream up. They were bound to find him. It was only a matter of time. As soon as he moved some kind of motion sensor would probably be alerted. His Spidey-senses still kept flaring up. They were still looking for him. He knew they were still out for his blood.

Every time his thoughts went down that path his heart rate quickened again and he tried to think of Delmar's sandwiches and his warm comfy bedroom to calm his nerves. It took another 20 minutes until his need to get home overtook his anxiety and he slowly climbed down into the alleyway. He wasn't sure where exactly he was. He had to find a street sign or at least a clear view of one of Manhattan's famous landmarks, that would give him an indication of where he was and in which direction he needed to head. He would have to stay close to the ground. Maybe he could even climb down into the subway tunnels and crawl along the ceiling to get back to Queens. Then he turned a corner and ran into something. Or rather someone.

For a second he had a flashback to his earlier bump in with Captain America, but this guy was a lot softer and went right to the ground on impact.

"Oh gosh, sorry, dude! My bad, I didn't mean to -"

Hands grabbed him by the shoulders and the surprising turn of events made him freeze up just enough that they managed to push him down to the ground. He rolled himself over. As he aimed his web shooters up at his attackers a few steel cap boots made contact with his ribs. Someone grabbed his feet and dragged him across the ground towards a door while someone else wanted to restrain his arms. More kicks were aimed at his torso and head. Pain and shock made him freeze up and it was that moment when he realized that it wasn't the threat of looming Avengers that had driven his senses up the wall. His brain needed to shut up now. This wasn't the time to scold him for his foolishness. His Spidey-senses were what he needed! They would help him to get out of this mess.

He became more conscious of his surroundings, sensed 6 guys at a minimum. He kicked off two of them who held down his legs first and then struggled to get control of his arms. By the time he had thrown off the guy who held his right arm, more hands grabbed his legs and yanked him across the concrete. He managed to shoot a web at the guy who still clung to his second arm but the pull on his legs made him lose control of his upper body. It all happened so fast and his head slammed into the ground. He groaned and kicked, wildly fired at his attackers but his webs wouldn't come. His head was throbbing and he wound himself from side to side to shake off the attack. Why couldn't he get his damn web shooters to work? He took a second to look at his wrists and his heart gave a painful squeeze. His right shooter had run out of fluid and the left was almost empty as well. More kicks hit his chest. It drove the air out of his lungs. He needed to get up now. If he wouldn't get up now… He yanked at all his limbs at once and got his feet back underneath himself. He didn't even stop to take a breath, he just lunged at the two who had held his arms and punched their lights out.

Just as he was about to turn to face the rest, his Spidey-senses flared up in alarm. His reflexes took over and urged him into evasive action. Mid-turn he sidestepped to the right but not enough to avoid the knife aimed at his abdomen. A sharp pain ran through him as it struck his left side, but this time his body didn't freeze at all. A quick succession of kicks and punches had the guy drop the knife though not before Peter felt him leave a few additional cuts on his arms. Three down, three more to go_. Fuck._ He was in trouble. His hand shot down to his side and the amount of blood it was covered in from touching left him light-headed. No. He needed to get out. Without another thought, he stepped back from his attackers towards the wall of the building and just climbed.

He reached the top of the building and collapsed onto his back. Instinctively his hand went back onto the wound on his side. He was bleeding. He needed to stop_ bleeding_. With every deep breath he took, blood was oozing past his fingers. The pain seeped through his entire body.

He cast his eyes up to the Manhattan night sky. Pure despair weighed him down, his body transfixed with pain.


	9. TOA The Mission in Manhattan - Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 - The One After The Mission in Manhattan**

Wilson slammed his fist on the conference table.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Stark?"

"I was thinking that I'm not going to leave a terrorist alone in the middle of a Manhattan street to chase after the guy who'd just helped us out while I'm still holding an undefined biochemical weapon in my hand. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Following the team leader's orders?! We don't know the dude! He has powers we need to know about!"

"Really? You're going with that? Sounds a bit like something Ross would say..." Tony shot a glance over to Natasha who had been quietly observing them during the entirety of the debrief.

"Tony, we need to know, who this guy is!" Rogers looked up at him, his chin was still resting on his hand. He was giving Tony one of those _'I'm not angry, I'm disappointed'_\- looks, that Tony sometimes suspected were his real superpower.

"There's plenty of time to find out who he is. That was not the time or the place! Taking care of the city is always the number one priority, not chasing after our allies!"

"He's not our ally!" Rogers still looked at him like he was 5 years old.

"He sure was helpful today!"

"He butted in while we were trying to thwart a biochemical terror attack, Tony!"

He threw up his hands at Rogers remark, groaned in frustration. "Please. They had us pushed into a corner. Any further escalation might have resulted in civilian casualties. He did us a favor."

"We don't know, what his motivation is!"

"Come on, Rogers. You're just pissed that he caught us one of the assholes while the one you were chasing gave you the slip!" Rogers' eyes narrowed as Tony crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Or is it more about the Spiderling giving you the slip as well?"

Tony couldn't suppress a smirk and an eye-roll at Rogers' offended expression.

"Fuck you, Stark!" Wilson had gotten up out of his chair and pointed a finger at him. "What's the matter with you! How are you defending this guy over your team? You're supposed to have our backs!"

"I am having your backs! I'm letting you know, that you're being douche bags, who need to get their heads out of their asses to realizes the big picture here!" He tilted his head at Wilson, still leaning back in his chair. "It's what friends do. Letting you know, when you're being a jackass."

"Well, the jackass department would be your area of expertise, Stark!" Wilson turned to head for the door of the conference room.

"Sam, sit!" Natasha shot a silencing glace over to a snicker from Wanda then looked back and forth between him and Wilson. "Are we done with the pissing match? Get your ass back in that chair, Sam." She turned to Tony. "The Spider-dude is a liability. We don't know anything about him and that needs to change. He doesn't seem to know all that much about what he's doing himself and that is a problem, too. But Tony is right." She turned to Rogers. "He helped. We might have been in real trouble if he hadn't shown up. That is the part we should actually be focusing on! We only came out on top because we were lucky today and had help that we didn't arrange for. That can't happen again!"

Wilson scowled at her. "Wanda and Vision were just about to back us up. We'd have been fine!"

She turned back to him. "Speculating what could have been is useless right now. Tony is right, catching the Spider was not a priority. Bringing him in by force is not in our best interest. Focusing on the threat at hand was important." She turned to look at Rogers again. "Catching the terrorists was the mission."

"We don't know if he was in on it with them! How did he even know about what was going on? It's suspicious."

"Steve, I think the fact that he helped to keep them from setting off their substance speaks for itself."

Tense silence settled between them until Natasha spoke up again. "We should have cut off their escape route back to the bridge right away. The strategy was flawed." Her glance rested on Rogers. "We will learn from this. We will do better as a team in the future." She leaned back, her eyes still on Rogers. "We do have three of them in custody. That's three new sources of information. We'll learn. We'll be better."

Rogers nodded. "Fine."

"Tony!" His eyes shot over to her. "What do you know about the Spider-dude?"

He mulled over his interactions with the Spiderling for a moment. "I've seen him twice after his run-in with Potts. I thought... I thought it was suspicious..." Rogers looked up at him in surprise, but Tony just shrugged. "Him turning up just as she needed help. It seemed a little too convenient. So, first I had Friday check him out. Everything she could, videos, mentions of his abilities, similar instances to Potts' situation. Everything I found was mostly on petty crime, pickpockets, car thieves, those kinda things. All Queens-based with a pretty obvious routine." Tony cleared his throat. "I just wanted to be sure, that Pepper was not a target, so I made the trip over to Queens, checked him out in person. He stopped a burglary in process, wrapped two burglars up in his, well, web stuff. Then we had a short chat. It seemed like he genuinely didn't know that it was Potts he'd helped out that afternoon. I don't think he was lying. That was that." He drummed his fingers on the table and looked up at Natasha.

"So, today was the second time you've come across him?"

He held her stare. "Second time would have been the next day when he showed up at the tower and made me jump out of my skin." He flashed her a smile.

"He came up to the tower?" The alarm in Rogers' voice was more than obvious. "What did he want?"

Tony kept his eyes for a moment longer on Natasha before he turned to look at Rogers, fighting the urge to bite his lip. "Nothing." He shrugged. "Payback for me showing up on his rooftop, I assume."

Rogers shook his head, but Wilson beat him to the punch. "And you seriously bought that?"

"Enlighten me, Wilson. What do you think his master plan is?"

"You need to take this seriously, Tony!" Rogers could stare at him all he wanted. He was not going to break. He didn't even do anything wrong!

"He's just a young guy trying to show off." Their facial expressions screamed of skepticism. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. What do you want me to do about it?"

Rogers was still staring at him from across the table. "You can't keep this kind of information from us, Tony!"

"I'm not purposefully keeping any information from you! Up until he showed up today, all of what I just told you was irrelevant chatter. I'm not going to start writing a diary so you can browse through everything I do, Rogers."

"Tony..." His head shot back over to Natasha. "Is there anything else?"

He shook his head. "No."

Natasha's eyes were still on him. Her spy instincts had surely picked up on his bouncing leg and restrained himself, settled both feet firmly on the ground. There was no way he was going to fill them in on the little detail that he'd been boozed up a little too much when he had sought out the Spiderling that first night. Not even Nat would let that kind of recklessness slide. It must have been the display he had put on that night what had opened up the door for the Spiderling. That gave the guy the guts to crawl up to his penthouse. A ballsy move. Sure, the dude had some weird powers and an upper body strength that most man would kill for... _But he was still Iron Man…_

"Alright then. We need you to go and get him for us."

"Come on, Nat..."

Rogers jumped at that. "This is not up for discussion, Tony! We can't have a young man jump around the city like that unchecked and unwilling to cooperate!"

Tony shook his head in frustration. "You guys are playing this all wrong. He has some weird powers, that could help us out down the road and we need all the help that we can get. Bringing him in like one of those terrorists and interrogating him is not gonna earn us any trust!"

"It's not his trust I'm worried about!" Of course, Rogers disapproved of Tony's non-compliance. "Where do you think his weird powers came from? Did he experiment on himself or did someone make him into the weapon he is? We cannot sit back on this! Someone with an agenda is behind this and we need to be prepared! If he turns out to be an ally, we will get to it, when we get to it. But this is not the time for that! We can't throw our trust at someone like that!"

Tony shot a glance over at Nat, but he could tell that he was outnumbered on this. His eyes dropped to the table in front of him. "Fine. I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Tony had his back against his desk. A number of graphs and calculation sheets were projected in front of him in the middle of the lab. His head bend, eyes closed, he was deep in thought. He needed to clear his head. Push out the day's events and the confrontation with his team that had followed. Work was always a great distraction and he was willing his mind to focus on the calibrations of the new minimalist gadgets he had designed to be kept on his person for emergency situations. Ever since the fight with Aldrich Killian he had been trying to implement a trimmed down version of the suit that he could keep on himself at all times, that would give him a chance to fight until the full suit could arrive if called for.

_**"Boss, someone's knocking on the window."**_

Tony's head shot up and listened intently until his face turned into a confused frown. "FRI, you drunk? The lab doesn't have windows."

_**"Someone is knocking on the living room window of Stark Tower."**_

He turned his head up to the ceiling and narrowed his eyes. "Has someone been messing with your sensors?"

_**"Negative, Boss. Security scans were executed as scheduled and returned no suspicious results."**_

"Just to be clear. You're telling me that someone is knocking on the living room window of my penthouse on the 68th floor of the Tower?"

**_"Correct, Boss."_**

He tried one last time, "From the outside?"

**_"Yes, Sir."_**

With a sigh, he stood up straight. "Well, pull up the security cam feed of the balcony then, I swear if this turns out to be window clea-"

He stopped. His calculations had disappeared and the projection that FRIDAY had pulled up in its place in the middle of his lab showed three different angles of the balcony and living room glassfront of his penthouse. With the reflection of Manhattan's night lights in the windows he could make out a person, whose torso was leaning against the glass, legs spread out on the floor.

"Zoom in cam 5B and turn on the lights, FRIDAY." With the exterior floodlights and the indoor living room lighting turned up, Tony recognized Spider-Man right away. He was holding his side and there was an ominous dark spot forming beneath him. His body had jerked slightly as the bright lights illuminated the balcony, but there was not much movement coming from him now.

"Urgh, shit..." Tony muttered. "FRI, turn on the audio feed and ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing up there."

His speakers blared with white noise from the high winds outside the building. Tony could make out FRIDAY's question quite clearly though.

**_"Good evening, Spider-Man. Mr. Stark would like to inquire about the reason for your visit tonight."_**

Tony studied the feed for any sign of movement from the man on the floor. He had jerked in surprise as FRIDAY's voice echoed across the balcony. To her question, he just lightly lifted his hand and let a fresh stream of blood run down his side. As he placed his hand back on the wound, Tony called for the suit.

"Tell him, I'm on my way over. 7 Minutes." His thrusters started immediately. The suit guided itself out of the narrow emergency shaft he'd put in the lab. "Might make it in 6."

En route down from upstate New York along the Hudson, Tony had instructed FRIDAY to dim the headlights on the balcony. Still, the platform he had designed for easy Iron Man access was sufficiently illuminated to make an easy landing. The suit retracted right as his feet touched the floor. He took a few hurried steps over to the slumped down figure, who had by now slid to his side. His right shoulder touched the balcony floor now, while the right arm was still snaked around his abdomen.

"Spiderling..." He was careful not to let his voice give away his nerves. "How nice of you to drop by. Didn't I ask you to use the front door?"

Tony crouched down beside him, his hand hovered over the spot on his left side that Spider-Man still had his right hand pressed on. Up close he could take in the state of the suit. It was ripped in multiple places and his face mask had abrasions with patches soaked in dark blood that looked like the side of his head had been dragged across the street. He hadn't made any attempt to get up when Tony had arrived. He… shit… he might not even be able to stand on his own.

"Do you think you can stand?"

A short shake of the head was the Spiderling's first acknowledgment of Tony's presence on the balcony.

"I'm gonna go ahead and assume that if you wanted a hospital, you'd have knocked on their window and wouldn't have climbed all the way up to the 68th floor of my building."

"No...no hospital..." His voice gave Tony chills. He sounded small and weak, very much like he had reached all of his limits.

Tony let out a long breath. "Yeah, alright. I'll... Let's get you inside. FRIDAY, doors." How was he even gonna do that?

"Okay...okay, I will..." his hands still hovered over the beaten body "I'll try to lift you from your right. This will probably hurt..."

Tony's arm came around the man's right shoulder, braced him, then tried to heave him up.

A soft whimper made Tony freeze in surprise. "Sorry, buddy..." he muttered, a quick glance over to the masked face as he released the pressure on the shoulder. "Erm, well... how about we get you popped up against the window first, so I can have a look at your side…"

Tony moved his hand away from the shoulder to the right side of the Spiderling's torso. The constant quiver of the man's body made his heart pound in his ears. He just had to push through it and ignored another small whimper. Tony slowly dragged him up into a sitting position.

"Here we go, you're good...Just stay like this, try not to fall over."

Tony stood up and turned towards the Penthouse. One thing he had learned rather quickly when he became an Avenger was that he always had to have a firm idea of where the first aid kits were stored in any of his facilities, so he was back at Spider-Man's side right away.

"Okay, just a fair warning: none of my PhDs are in medicine." He moved the Spiderling's hand off the wound, pressed a wound dressing firmly onto it and secured it in place with a bandage tightly wrapped around his abdomen. "I have picked up a few things along the way though. I understand that you're in pain, but I will need to move you out of this wind and look at these wounds of yours." Tony slung Spider-Man's right arm around his own shoulder. "Okay, I'll count to three then I'll pull you up. Try to get your legs underneath yourself and we will take it from there." After a sharp nod from the man, Tony counted to three and lifted him up, a little surprised how light he was considering that he had witnessed Spider-Man's strength in action. "Careful now. I gotcha..."

Inside Tony maneuvered him onto the living room table.

"Alright. Let's see what we are dealing with. FRIDAY, a little more light."

_**"Certainly, Boss."**_

Spider-Man jerked at FRIDAY's response and tried to push himself up on the table. Tony had a firm hand on his shoulder but even the sorry state he was in, Tony was clearly outmatched in strength. "Ooookay buddy, calm down. It's just my AI. Nothing to worry about. You're alright." Tony took hold of his right arm. The sudden rise had left Spider-Man swaying. If the dude slipped and fell he could make this a lot worse. "Alright. You're alright." Tony muttered again and again. When the Spiderling had lain back down on the table, Tony went to grab the first aid kit.

_He had to focus now. That abdominal wound first. It would probably need stitches. If it needed more than a few stitches, well... he'd deal with that when they got to it__._

Tony cut the bandages, removed the wound dressing and replaced it with a fresh one. He took a deep breath and braced himself before he pressed the dressing firmly into the wound to soak up all the blood that was still oozing out of it and compressed the blood vessels. Spider-Man jerked away. His body shivered with pain.

"I need you to lie still for a moment, so I can look at it."

After a couple of small nods from the Spiderling, Tony increased the pressure on the wound again, then quickly took off the dressing. The compression gave him a moment to look at the wound without it being covered with blood. A couple of seconds later a new stream rushed down Spider-Man's side and Tony pressed a fresh wound dressing firmly onto it.

He muttered as low "sorry" as Spider-Man took in a sharp breath and tried to wiggle away from the pressure. His body jerked and turned under Tony's hand. He looked up at the masked face.

"Someone knifed you." It wasn't really a question. Tony had assumed as much by the long and heavy bleeder. The wound was quite distinct and had confirmed his suspicion.

A short nod came from the man on the table. He looked pitiful, gasping for air, body strained with pain. Tony patted his arm with his other hand.

"It's okay, I think this is something we'll be able to deal with. I should be able to stitch this up for you. It's quite deep, but from what I can tell there are no major vessels or organs around the area. We should be able to deal with this with a couple of stitches and a proper pressure bandage..." Tony reapplied a bandage as he was talking. "I will get you some pain killers to take the edge off, unless... " He stopped looking back up into Spider-Man's masked face. "You're not allergic or something, right? Addicted to painkillers? Something I should worry about?"

Spider-Man shook his head.

"You sure?"

He croaked "not an addict" and added "no allergies".

"Good."

Tony went to get some water and the Ibuprofen capsules. They wouldn't help a lot, but it was all he had on hand and he could hope for a strong placebo. He put the glass on the table and handed him the capsules. Spider-Man lifted his mask just enough to swallow the painkillers and take a gulp of the water, then pulled his mask back into place immediately. Tony glanced up and down his body. So many cuts and scrapes, all the places the suit was torn.

He swallowed his anger at the state of the vigilante in front of him and shifted closer. His hand hovered over some of the worse cuts. "It'll be at least 20 minutes till the meds kick in. I'd rather not poke around that slash on your side any more before that." He bit his lip. "You're not going to like this, but you have quite a few cuts, that we will have to take care of in addition to that." Tony looked right at him. "Your face looks like someone dragged you all the way down Broadway by your feet. That mask will have to come off."

Spider-Man shook his head, pressed out a firm "No!"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "There's still blood running down from those cuts on your face. It's honestly not a good look and battle scars are not as attractive as they seem in the movies, believe me. We have 20 minutes. Might as well get those taken care of."

Another breathy "No!"

Urgh, great. Stubbornness must be a deciding factor on anyone stupid enough to dabble into the Superhero business. "You came here for help. And honestly, you are in desperate need of it. So, let me!"

Spider-Man shook his head from one side to the other again and again.

"You don't want people to know who you are, fine. I'll keep my trap shut. I know what it's like to... well, actually no, I went and told a whole room full of reporters that I'm Iron Man. But I understand. You don't want the authorities or some weird agencies breathing down your neck and poking at your Spider-Web-Slinging-Super-Strength, trying to figure out where that weird web stuff is coming out of you exactly and not everyone has a multi-billion company to stand up to those vultures. I get that. Believe me, I do."

Spider-Man listened to him intently, his hands pressed against the table as he steadied his quivering body.

"But obviously you were desperate enough to crawl all the way up here and ask for help. So, let me help."

Spider-Man was silence, his head still. Tony had hit a nerve. When the man finally spoke, his voice was no more than a shallow whisper.

"You owe me... you said... you said, you owed me..."

Tony's face hardened, but he nodded. "Yes. I said that. I owe you. And I'm prepared to stand by my word."

"Nobody... nobody can know." His voice was shaking. He was breathing heavily through his clearly still persistent pain.

"I understand."

"You don't tell. Nobody... nobody-

"Yes, fine. I won't tell anyone anything about you."

"Swear it."

"Come one, dude..."

Spider-Man stayed silent, just stared at him. _Urgh, fine._ Tony threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine. I swear."

At that Spider-Man's body almost seemed to relax. It left Tony with nausea as it only amplified the shaking in his muscles. He gave a slight nod. "Okay." He lifted his hand up to his mask. He didn't touch the fabric. His hands trembled as if he was pushing against an invisible barrier "I... I don't think I can..."

"You have my word."

Spider-Man's hand still hovered over the edge of his mask. He gave a small nod and tucked at the fabric. Quite quickly he stopped and a sharp gasp escaped him. Tony grasped his hands and steadied them. The blood that was oozing out of the scrapes on his face had already started to clot on the wounds' edges and the fabric had gotten stuck to the scurf.

"It's okay. It's only crusted over a bit. I… I'll get a cloth and some water and free the fabric. Just… just don't tug at it or it'll rip your skin even deeper."

Tony returned with some warm water and a washcloth. He was careful not to cause the Spiderling any more pain as he separated the fabric from the wounds. Spider-Man just lay there, surrendered to his predicament and endured the procedure silently.

After a few minutes, the mask started to come free and Tony slowly lifted it off the man's face. Too focused on the wounds it took him a moment to take in that face in front of him. Those eyes that stared right at him wide with uncertainty and fear. His mouth fell open and Tony just stood there, staring at the face of a boy. A fucking _boy_.

Tony cleared his throat, but his voice wouldn't come. He took in the youth of that face for a couple more seconds but he'd already made up his mind.

"FRIDAY. Ambulance. Now!"

The boy's eyes widened even more in surprise. How could anyone's eyes even physically do that? "No..." he croaked and tried to lift himself off the table.

By reflex, Tony put his arm on his and did his best to hold the kid down, but it was useless. He was only human after all and that kid had some serious super-human strength in him, bashed up and bruised as he was.

"You, stay down!" Tony exclaimed through gritted teeth, but he took a step back, as that ridiculously juvenile face burned itself into his retina.

**_"ETA 7 minutes, Boss."_**

The Spiderling jerked back, his glace went up to the ceiling, then back to Tony. "Don't...don't do this."

Tony kept his face emotionless when at the same time his heart was beating like a jackhammer.

"Please... Mr. Stark... Sir, you promised..." the boy clearly tried his best to hold back tears "You owe me. You... you said it. You owe me." With every word, the boy's breathing grew heavier.

Tony kept his eyes firmly on the boy, willed his face not to twitch. He couldn't afford any form of weakness, not now. "I make those kinds of deals with grown-ups," Tony spit. "I'm not making deals with kids!"

"For... Miss Potts. You said you own me. For her. You..." His eyes drilled into Tony, pleading. "You gave me your word."

"No..." Tony murmured. "I can't..." and when he finally found his voice he added "You're just a boy! What the fuck were you thinking?! Putting yourself in this kind of a mess?!"

"Please, Sir..."

Panic was rising within Tony or rather had risen to a point where he was so close to drift into an actual panic attack. He had to turn away from the kid, hands over his head in frustration.

_This could not be happening!__  
_  
"They'll take me away from... from my family." The boy was unable to hold back his tears any longer. "If they take me, I... I'm never going home. You... you gave me your word."

Tony shot him a glace. This wasn't fair. He'd had no idea to what kind of madness he had agreed to. He couldn't let a boy walk around New York City jumping off buildings, taking down robbers and muggers and getting stabbed and whatnot in the process! A boy that was lying on his living room table with a slashed up abdomen. Blood seeped through the bandage Tony had applied as he just lay there, pain pouring out of his every pore.

"I'm sorry, kid."

The boy's eyes stayed on Tony for another second. He took in what Tony had told him. he would have to realize that the only sensible-

Suddenly the kid's glance darted over to the window and the balcony door.

"Oh hell no! FRI-" He had to duck as a spider web was flung in his direction. His reflexes would have been useless but the Spiderling's aim was definitely off. "Stop!"

The kid pushed himself up and reached for his mask. He came up short and his pained gasp as the movement stretched his wounds made Tony stir and tap his watch. The boy was frantic, sent another web towards Tony, who just ducked and let it fly over his head. He crawled closer to where Tony had put down the face mask.

"I said, STOP!" The boy froze now. Tony's voice filtered by the Iron Man suit did usually add another level of authority. He planted himself between the door and the boy. His gaze didn't waver from the Spiderling as he was crouched on his living room table and tears rolled down his face, terror in his eyes.

"FRIDAY, door. And call off the EMT."

The boy gave a small sob as the balcony door swung shut behind Tony.

_**"The paramedics have been informed that their assistance is no longer required."**_

"Fine," Tony threw up his hand in a defensive manner and lifted his faceplate. "No more web shooting and escape attempts. I'll stitch up that wound of yours and we'll talk."

The boy quickly nodded, his face still wet and full of fear.

With a deep breath on Tony's part as the kid muttered a quiet "Okay." he let the suit retract itself.

"You better have one hell of an explanation for this."

_(author's note: thank you guys, for reading and your comments :) )_


	10. Just Take a Breath - Chapter 10

**Just Take a Breath - Chapter 10**

The room was mostly quiet. Thankfully. There were only two settings Tony liked to work with. Music blasting or dead silence. He was bent over one of his workbench drawers and rummaged around the content. He was looking for a particular set of tiny screwdrivers to dismantle Dum-E's control unit, since the idiot had managed to spill water all over himself, when he tried to refill the tank of the coffee maker. Something had shorted and Tony had narrowed the faulty wire down to a particular control unit that he probably hadn't touched since college.

"I know they're here somewhere..." He closed his eyes and tried to picture where he had seen those damn screwdrivers last. Had definitely used them when he had added those cooling pads to-

_**"Sir-"**_

"Shoosh, not now!" His face was resting in his hands and he felt like he was almost there, almost had the image called up in his mind of where he'd seen them last. If not that drawer, they must be-

_**"Sir, the little master is restless."**_

Tony stood straight at once, his eyes darted to the monitor he had installed at the end of his workbench. And on the fridge. And also next to the workshop door. A quick blue pulsing light meant his son was restless in his bed. A quick glance at his watch told him it was 2:17 am. As he looked back up towards the monitor it turned orange. Distress.

"Thanks, JARVIS." He grabbed a towel from the workbench in front of him to roughly wipe off the worst of the dirt from his hands and hurried towards the door. He patted Dum-E in passing and mumbled a low "Sorry, buddy. I'll be back in a bit." and as he reached the stairs he took two at a time to get up from the basement to the second floor. In front of the door, he paused, took a couple of deep breaths to calm down his pulse and put an ear to the door, listened to what was happening inside.

There was some rustling and a soft whimper. This was no good. He'd need to work on a better monitoring system.

Slowly and quietly he pushed down the handle of the door. His son's room was dark, the curtains drawn close. Only a little moonlight was shining in through a gap between the window edge and the curtain, but it was enough for Tony to guide himself to the bed. As he kneeled down at the head of the bed, the boy's eyes were still closed but he was tossing about, murmuring and breathing heavily, hands shot up to cover his face.

Tony lightly placed a hand on his son's chest, his voice low and warm.

"It's alright, baby. You're alright."

He was still restless and as Tony's hand on his chest kept him from throwing himself from one side to the other, he was now tossing his head from side to side. Quickly Tony's other hand came up to first cup his face, then ran through his soft brown hair.

"Wake up, Addy. I'm right here. Come on, darling."

His thumb was caressing the boy's temple and Tony kept speaking to him, his voice still low, when Aiden's eyes flew open. He tried to focus on the ceiling above him then frantically moved his eyes around the room.

"It's alright, Addy. I'm here. I'm here."

At that, the boy looked right at him, still not really seeing him. His short high-pitched scream made Tony freeze just for a moment. The boy jerked away from him and started crying in earnest and while Tony's heart jumped at the desperate sound he wouldn't let it phase him. This wasn't the first time he was by his son's bedside in the middle of the night. Not the first time he had woken from a nightmare. According to the pediatrician, this was a normal way for toddlers to process all the new impressions the world made on them every day. They were quite frequent in 2 to 5 year-olds and Aiden being just a couple months shy of two years old might have been a bit ahead of the curve, but then so had Tony been. First circuit board at 4, first engine at 6. A Stark being ahead of the curve was the norm after all.

Or so he was determined to tell himself.

Just a nightmare. Nothing to freak out about.

Deep breaths to keep his heart rate even, to radiate calmness. His hand was resting on his son's chest and he continuously spoke to Aiden, softly whispered reassurances. It took another minute for the boy to come out of his panic and actually recognize Tony. Still crying, his little hands grabbed for his dad's arms and Tony lifted his son towards himself, held him close to his chest.

"It's alright, baby. You're alright." He hugged the boy in his arms as one of his hands rubbed slow circles onto his back.

Aiden's hands were tightly twisted into Tony's shirt, his face pressed against his father's chest. Tony concentrated on his boy's breathing, his own heartbeat in check. His chest was rising and falling and his son mimicked his rhythm and gradually recovered from the nightly scare. As his breathing grew less erratic and his tears ebbed off, Tony closed his eyes. Almost there. His technique still worked.

"There you go." His hand combed through the boy's locks and he craned his neck to see his son's face. The boy had his eyes closed. Maybe he could just get him to fall asleep again. Slowly he lifted him up, laid him back down onto the bed, but Aiden stiffened in his arms and clung even closer to him.

"No... Daddy... No..." The boy's voice only a whisper and still husky from crying.

He hugged his son close to his chest and stood up just enough to maneuver himself onto the bed, Aiden still securely in his arms. The boy's face remained nuzzled into his shirt.

"It's alright, darling. I'm here."

He ran his hand through his son's hair, coaxing him back to sleep.

"I'll be here."

* * *

Initially, the shock of the situation, as well as the adrenaline rushing through his body, had kept the worst of the pain at bay. Peter had been stranded on a rooftop, bleeding heavily and almost ready to embrace the pain that was paralyzing him. He'd pass out any moment. It was just too much, his consciousness was fading fast. His head fell back and then he saw the lights. His eyes had focused on Stark Tower that rose up only about a block away from him. The sight had filled him with purpose and sheer refusal to bleed out from such a dumb mistake had given him the strength to get up. To get help. To seek out someone, he could possibly trust. Who would understand. When he had reached the penthouse, knew that help was on the way, the level of adrenaline in his blood that had lent him strength quickly fell. Pain was now filling him up in its place. He had never felt pain like that before.

When his mask was lifted off his face, when he pleaded his case to Tony Stark, that pain was put out of his mind again with adrenaline charging through him once more. He still felt tense. He had sought out Iron Man in the hope of help. But really, what did he even know about the guy? What if he'd sell him out after all? But the truth was that Peter didn't have anywhere else to go. This was his best shot. Stark had helped him to lie back down on the table and was now treating the cuts on his face. Peter had his head turned to the side. That way Stark had better access to the left side of his face. His racing pulse made it hard for him to focus on what Stark was doing. Not that it mattered much. He just had to stay still, had to hold his emotions at bay. That was what he concentrated on. His eyes were cast down, unfocused. Neither of them had said much for the last few minutes, ever since Peter had settled back onto the table. The odd instruction on how and when to turn his face. But it was only a matter of time till Stark would put the pressure on him, Peter knew that much.

There was a particularly deep cut on his cheek and he really had no idea how he would even begin to explain that to May. But that was something he could figure out later. Right now he needed to find a way how he would get back home. If she found out that he was moonlighting as Spider-Man… no. Absolutely not, was not going to happen. No.

He'd known that taking the mask off in front of Stark was a risk and at the same time it was his only option. Stark was the only safe-ish haven his condition had allowed him to reach and with the man's reckless and authority-defying reputation Peter really had hoped for a little more leniency and understanding from him. But the initial reaction Stark had shown - initial freak-out might be more on point - made Peter less certain that he'd get out of this with his secret identity intact.

"How's the pain?"

Peter jerked slightly and immediately felt stupid. Stark had been right there all this time. He really had to get a grip. "It's... it's alright."

"Oh yeah? So, it's just the pleasure of my company that has you clinging to the edge of the table and trembling like a leaf?"

His eyes stung with tears again. Pain, frustration, embarrassment. He bit his lip and rapidly blinked his lashes to keep them from falling.

"You need to stop lying to me, kid. I can't help you if you keep lying. Look at me!"

His eyes darted up to meet Stark's. He did feel truly helpless and pathetic.

"Don't expect any help coming from me if you keep lying. Final warning."

"Yes, Sir."

"Then let me ask again: How's the pain?" Stark raised his eyebrows at him expectantly.

Peter swallowed hard, which in turn send a shiver through his body that caused another wave of pain to shoot through him. "Pretty much... the same."

Stark frowned and checked his watch. "It's been 20 minutes, maybe if we give it-"

"It's... unlikely to... to change... with the pills. I think... I think they aren't... strong enough for my meta... for my metabolism." Peter offered as an explanation.

Stark's eyes narrowed on him. "Because you're a child and children have a faster metabolism than adults?"

Peter closed his eyes in frustration before he slowly shook his head.

"How old are you?"

He looked back up at Stark and willed his face to be serious and strong. "I'm 14."

Stark stared at him, his lips a thin line. "What did I just say about your aversion to the truth and how you really, _really _need to overcome it?!"

Peter clenched both his hand into fists. "I'm 14!"

"Yeah... you look like your Hogwarts letter is still in the mail!"

His fist banged down on the table and frustration made his tears overflow at last. "I'm not lying!"

"Fine." Stark's eyes were still fixed on him. "Let's pretend for now that's true. What happened?"

Peter cast his eyes back down to the floor, rubbing his hand across his face. He'd been stupid and didn't pay enough attention to where he was going is what happened.

"I had the Falcon on my tail and after shaking him off-"

"After gluing him to the side of a building, you mean?" Peter's eyes shot back up but Stark's expression hadn't changed. "I'm not talking about tonight. You say you have an increased metabolism. You're fast. You're strong. The super-human kind. That weird web stuff you're shooting around. You've been active for a few months at best. Maybe I'm reading you wrong and these ... powers are something you actively sought out, but you don't seem like the mad professor type, experimenting on yourself. So, something happened to you. Probably quite recently."

Peter bit his lip, hesitating for a moment. Here it was. Stark wanted some answers and Peter had not yet decided how much he was willing to disclose.

"Flashy internship. Something bit me. I got sick. Then, I got better."

"What bit you?"

That made him laugh. To his own surprise, a short dry chuckle and regret along with a sharp wave of pain shot through him.

"Three guesses..."

"Did you actually see the thing or are you jumping to the obvious conclusion?"

Peter shrugged. "Saw it. Shook it off. Smashed it... with my notes." He was breathing heavily through the pain, his head had fallen back onto the table, eyes trying to find a point at the ceiling to stare at. Maybe the exhaustion in combination with the pain would just make him pass out after all. That was one way to keep some of his secrets.

"Any more where that one came from?"

"Don't know."

"Alright." Stark's gaze wandered back to his wound. "Alright. Well, I guess there's no reason for you to lie about the pills being useless with you." He shrugged. "Any medical equipment and drugs I have access to are at the Compound along with some rather pissed off Avengers."

Peter's pulse was hammering in his ears, his hold on the table stiffened again when he looked up to find that Stark was studying his face.

"They also have these kinds of things at the hospital."

"No... please, Mr. Stark..."

The man sighed. "What about your family? Do they know about your after-school activities?"

Peter managed to suppress another dry laugh to spare himself another wave of pain courtesy of his abdomen.

"No one knows."

Stark sighed again. "I'm not sure how you expect this to go. Let's say I stitch you up while you wiggle around from the pain of doing this without any anesthesia. Do you know how long a wound like that takes to heal? You'll have to monitor it, redress it, keep infection out."

"I heal fast."

"Oh yeah? I don't see your wound stitching itself up. This isn't just a scratch that will fade over night."

"I'll manage."

"You can't even keep yourself up on your own two feet! You think your parents won't notice?"

"I'll... I'll... think of something!"

"Of some more lies. Of course, you will. Why am I not surprised."

Peter grit his teeth. "I'm not... I don't lie to... I just..."

"Omit the truth. Sure. Trying semantics on me is not going to work."

"It's... I have to keep this to myself, okay?! She'd freak out if she knew and I can't..." Peter bit his tongue. He needed to shut the hell up. He already said too much.

"Your mother?"

He hesitated, then nodded.

"You're not great at that lying thing. Not even remotely as good as you seem to think you are."

Peter looked up at him. He felt his face heat up and tried his best to shake the embarrassment writing all over his face. He hadn't been lying though. May might not be his mother, not biologically, but she was the closest thing he had. The only mother he could remember.

"Do those _'parents'" _ Stark's hands air-quoting the word "of your's just not give a shit about you to notice all your _'truth omitting'_ or are you better at this without all the blood loss. What are we dealing with here, deadbeat parents or half-dead Spider?"

Not deadbeat, only dead... Peter kept his eyes up on the ceiling, stared straight ahead, his teeth pressed together. Stark's tactic was more than obvious. He was fishing for information and Peter was not going to give him the satisfaction. That trick would not get a rise out of him.

"Gotta say, that mask was a great idea. That face of yours is like glass. You really think I can't see you trying to come up with some more lies?"

Peter closed his eyes in frustration. Anger and despair pulsed through him stronger and stronger and he tried to push the feelings down.

"I shouldn't have... come here. I'll just... I'll just go."

He heard Stark snort. "Oh, yeah? Where exactly is it that you'll go and why didn't you go there before you came up here bleeding all over my penthouse?"

Peter's hands shot up and covered his face. How could he have been so careless? How had he screwed up this bad? He was in so much trouble. If May found out… What was he going to do? Hopelessness and fear slowly but surely leaked into every cell of his body. He couldn't fall apart, not in front of Tony Stark. He tried to cling to the little dignity he had left but he was fighting a losing battle. Peter could feel his heart rate quicken, his breathing shallow and fast, but still it seemed not fast enough. He wasn't getting enough air. His body started to shiver uncontrollably while his mind lost the battle against his anxiety and was swept up with an all-consuming sense of hopelessness.

Peter's hands had wandered from his face down to his neck and chest as he was tried to breathe. Panic triggered by the lack of oxygen was rising inside him. He jerked in surprise when he felt a hand settle on his arm. It was Stark who had stepped closer to the table. Peter's eyes shot over to him and he could tell that the man's lips were moving but his brain just wouldn't process whatever it was he said. All he could focus on was that pressure on his chest, a weight that seemed to crush his lungs, made it impossible to draw a breath. Then Stark yanked one of Peter's hand off his throat. He placed it squarely on his own chest right above his heart. Peter winced. He seemed to have lost control over his own limbs. His eyes were locked on his own hand that was pressed against Stark's chest. At first, his glance was simply transfixed by the visual of the slow rise and fall of the man's chest but gradually his other senses came back to him. He could feel the hold Stark had of his arm, the body heat radiating from his chest.

"Alright, kid. Take it easy now."

His eyes wandered upwards from his hand to Stark's face, stopped at his lips. He tried to grasp what Stark was saying.

"Just breath. You're alright."

Peter was panting, his lungs burned. "I... I can't... I can't..."

"Yes, you can. You just have to get out of your own head and focus."

Peter's glance shifted from Stark back to his own chest. The way his second hand was clawing on the damaged fabric of the suit seemed to be controlled by a foreign power and surely not by himself. He had no control over the rapid rise and fall of his chest either.

"Hey, Spiderling. Look at me!"

Stark jerked on the arm he was still holding and Peter pried his eyes away from his body to look up at the man standing next to him.

"It's alright. You're having an anxiety attack. You're safe here. You'll be fine."

Was he though? He had no control over what was going to happen with him. He was on his own. He-

"Hey!"

Peter's eyes shot back to Stark's face. He hadn't even realized that his glance had wandered up to the ceiling.

"I'm telling you, you will be alright. We'll figure this out."

Stark studied his face for a reaction.

"You can feel my pulse, right?"

Peter's gaze dropped down to his hand again. Stark was still holding it firmly pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady and once Peter had felt it, his ears picked up the beat as well.

"Yes." Peter nodded, not sure if his body actually did as he told it.

"Alright. That's good. Just focus on that one thing."

He could feel his own body mimicking the rhythm little by little. The hand on his chest unclench from the fabric of his suit little by little.

"There you go."

As Peter's breathing evened out, he could feel the wetness on his face. Stark's hold of his arm had lifted considerably and with some hesitation, Peter pulled his hand back from the man's grip and tried to wipe the tears off his face.

Stark crossed his arms, studied him in silence while Peter tried to collect himself. He had had some nightmare's that he struggled with after Ben died, that would wake him and leave him panting and sweating in the middle of the night. But nothing like this. Never something as intense as what he just experienced.

"Thank you."

Peter's voice still shook and the words almost inaudible. He was mortified how he had just completely lost it. In front of Stark of all people.

"I don't know..." His voice shook. "I'm... I'm sorry... I don't-"

"Okay, let's not do that." Stark uncrossed his arms and held out his hands in a calming gesture. "We don't want you to spiral down again, alright? It's fine."

"I'm sorry-" Peter stopped and looked up at Stark who'd reached out to take hold of his arm again.

"Listen to me, kid." Stark face unblinking but not unkind. "You're not the first to have an anxiety attack in here, alright."

Peter swallowed hard, his voice hoarse and small.

"I don't know what to do."

Stark patted his shoulder lightly.

"I'll get that suture kit and we'll stitch you back together. And then we'll take it from there."

Peter sniffed and cast his eyes down to his chest.

"Hey, kid!"

He looked back up at Stark.

"We'll figure it out, Spiderling."

Stark had turned, about to walk away.

"Peter."

The man stopped and turned enough to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"Excuse me?"

He cleared his throat.

"My name... is Peter. You never... you never asked."

Stark shrugged. "I figured you'd just lie."

Peter could feel his face heat up, but Stark just chuckled and turned away again to go and grab the suture kit.

* * *

_(author's note: If anyone rereads this and gets confused. I had to update Peter's _age,_ because I misremembered him telling Tony how old he is. I thought his "I'm 15" line was from Civil War, buttt, nope. Homecoming. #oops #sorry)_


	11. This Might Sting a Little - Chapter 11

**This Might Sting a Little - Chapter 11**

Tony's hands were resting on the cold porcelain of his bathroom sink. His eyes cast down, unfocused, as he stared at the space somewhere between the faucet and the tiled wall. His mind was focused on his breathing, long deep breaths to push down the queasy feeling in his stomach. He reached for the tap, splashed some water on his face and rubbed his hands sharply across it. A creative amount of curse words fell out of his mouth, too low and muffled by his hands to even reach his own ears. He looked up and stared at his own reflection in the mirror.

This was a horrible idea. He was no physician! Stitching up a wound on himself was one thing. This was insane. And reckless. Irresponsible.

He groaned, "Did I mention insane?" He was in way over his head...

The kid was right to be scared of a trip to the hospital though. If Tony would drag him there and they figured out that the boy was an enhanced... He had no idea if pointers to the kid's powers would pop up in some way when the hospital would test his blood type to give him a possible transfusion, which they were bound to do.

_Shit…_ Should he test the kid's blood in case he needed a transfusion? In case Tony screwed this up royally?

Well, he had no idea how to set up a blood transfusion anyway, so probably a no on that one. If he wasn't able to stop the bleeding by stitching up the wound...

Fuck... Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

His fists pounded the sink in frustration. He'd gotten next to nothing out of the boy. He needed parents' names, relatives, friends... just someone. Someone that could weigh the boy's current state and health risks versus the danger of him ending up in government custody. Anyone but him who could make this decision.

And it wasn't just the boy's safety that was at stake here. If the hospital would connect the dots, they'd inform the police, who would inform the government and Ross would have a field day with Tony's involvement with a vigilante. He had been working hard enough as it was to keep the Avengers out of trouble with the officials, careful not to give them any ammunition they could use against his team. He could absolutely not be caught trying to smuggle the Spiderling past the authorities. But he couldn't give the boy up to them either. Not with Ross still in charge. He couldn't have that on his conscience. He wouldn't.

The Compound then. FRIDAY might be able to sneak them in. He'd have access to more supplies, medical staff, and antibiotics. But Tony wasn't entirely sure of the Compound staff's loyalty. Sure, he was the one paying their salaries, but when it came to social skills and unintelligent small talk, Rogers and especially Wilson had him beat. The blame for Ultron was still squarely put on Tony as well, which hadn't left him on the best terms with Helen Cho. Rogers surely would find some way to put the blame that Spider-Man turned out to be an under-aged kid on him somehow. Especially if that particular bit of information was snitched to him by the Compound staff.

Tony shifted on his feet and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't in control of this situation at all and he was not ok with that. Too much that he didn't know about the boy. The rest of the team was pissed off already that they were outplayed that afternoon. That they almost messed it up. There was no telling on how much of the fault they'd pass of to the kid and then him by association. If anyone knew about being passed the blame for a fuck up it would be him. Chances were that kind of heat would break the kid.

Well, it followed that he would have to deal with those stitches on his own for now.

He stood up straight, slid the mirror to the side, which revealed a collection of bandages, medical tape, and disinfectants as well as his suture kit. After another deep sigh, he reached for the kit, gloves and for some of the other supplies that would come in handy. As he made his way back to the living room, the boy was still stretched out on the table where Tony had left him. He knelt down next to him, the supplies still firmly in his hands. The dressing he had applied to the boy's side was already soaked again. A small stream of blood had seeped through the bandage and was slowly flowing down his side and pooling beneath the kid on the table.

"Alright then."

The kid's big frightened eyes were really not helpful at all. Tony laid out the supplies. He squeezed his hands into fists so they wouldn't tremble.

_Just breath. _He had done stitched before. He could do this. It'd be fine.

When his voice felt steady enough he turned to the kid once more.

"You might want to look somewhere else while I'm doing this. Anticipating every stitch and seeing yourself bleed will only make this worse."

The boy nodded and whispered a soft "okay" before he turned his head away from him. Tony had laid out everything he needed. Needle. Sutures. Antiseptic solution. Additional dressings to soak up the blood and swab the wound. He reached for the bandage that was tightly wrapped around the boy's abdomen but stopped.

"Peter." Tony waited for the kid to look back up at him. He studied his battered face, his eyes glassy from pain and tears. "This is going to hurt. Are you sure that there's nobody I can call for you? Relatives? A friend? Someone to be here with you. You don't have to do this alone." For the short moment that the boy hesitated, Tony actually got his hopes up, but then the boy shook his head, only bit his lip and turned his head to stare at something on the other side of the room.

"Just... just do it."

Tony cast his own eyes up to the ceiling for a moment. He'd never given much credence to religion, but he'd love some of that surety and support someone else might gain from sending out a prayer in this kind of a situation. There was nothing to be gained from questioning his decision at this point though. He was stuck with the risky path he'd been pushed on by the kid. He cut the bandage and parts of the onesie, carefully peeled off the dressing and the fabric around it. Blood was still seeping out of the cut. Not the fast rush that he had found when he had inspected the Spiderling's wound earlier that night though. There was still a considerable amount of blood, only thicker, flowing less urgently.

"Alright. There is quite a bit of clotting in your blood already." He pressed a new dressing onto the wound. "That's finally some good news. We might actually get away with this..."

The boy's hands were clinging to the edge of the table. He only gave a soft nod as a response.

"I will use some antiseptic solution to clean the cut. This might sting a little." He soaked one of the dressings but hesitated. He turned to look at the kid, who was still staring at the wall on the other side of the room.

"I'm sorry. That's a lie. This will hurt a lot. You can..." A deep sigh escaped him when the kid's eyes darted towards his. "It's fine to scream. It tends to help."

There was no point in dragging this out. The boy did scream. Tony tried to be fast about it, but he needed to be thorough. He couldn't risk any kind of contamination of the skin, any germs that the needle could possibly drag into the wound when he stitched it up. He'd not make the boy suffer through all this pain only to have him die from sepsis or blood poisoning within the week.

As much as the kid's screams made his stomach turn, this would still be the easy part. Now that the wound was prepped, the margins of it gaping open, a slow stream of blood continuously flowing down the boy's side and the needle positioned, he could actually feel bile rise in his throat. It was ridiculous. He'd injured and killed people and aliens. He'd stitched up the odd cut on his own body, especially in his early Iron Man days. But this was different. The setting almost intimate. Yes, he was going to help the kid, but he'd also make him suffer the unfiltered agony of sewing together an already painfully screaming part of his body. Tony's hands shook. He had vastly underestimated what adrenaline and the shock of an injury did to his own body. Natural pain management that made him capable of handling this kind of stuff on himself. Piercing the ripped skin of someone else. Someone he was trying to help. A boy.

_Get a fucking grip._

He took a deep breath in an effort to ground himself when the boy's abdomen suddenly started to shake a little more than before. He gritted his teeth. The kid was sobbing and that was not helping him deal with his anxiety or the task at hand or really with any of this. Against his better judgment, his eyes shot up to the boy's face, only to realize that he was not sobbing at all. He was chuckling.

For a moment Tony thought that this turn of events had actually rendered him speechless. He narrowed his eyes at the boy and cleared his throat.

"Are you laughing?"

The Spiderling was breathing heavily through the pain, that this obviously caused him.

"Sorry..." He took another breath, one of his hands came to rest on his stomach, pressed down on it in hopes of stopping the tremors.

"What the fuck..."

"Sorry... I just..." He took another deep breath. "I just had to think... about how my... my parents would totally... totally sue you... if you... argh..." he chuckled again, but his face contracted with the pain it caused him. "if you screw this... this up. And how... urgh." His hand pressed down on his stomach again. "How rich we'll... we'll be."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

The boy had turned his head to the ceiling, eyes closed. Tears ran steadily down his face.

"I'll... I'll totally buy... one of those... tacky... sports cars..."

Tony only shook his head in disbelieve. He'd seen many things in the past 8 years as Iron Man but this...

"You know, kid, you'd not be the first one trying to squeeze some money out of me."

"Ha..."

Tony could actually feel the corners of his mouth wanting to rise in response.

"If I had a dollar for every time someone tried to sue me for I'd... oh wait. I already am a billionaire. My bad."

The Spiderling laughed, but still held his stomach.

"Pete, take a breath. You need to stay still now."

The kid opened his eyes and looked right at him.

"Tell me... about the... the most... ridiculous one."

"The most ridiculous lawsuit?"

Peter nodded before he turned his gaze up to a spot on the ceiling.

"Goodness. There are so many. Honestly, I wouldn't even know about all of them. Most of the time they don't make it much further than my lawyer's office. Potts would sometimes pass along some of the crazier ones for entertainment purposes."

He wasn't sure how deliberate the boy's behavior was, or if it was a conscious decision on his part at all. Maybe the pain had made him delirious. Maybe he had just started talking to keep his mind off the needle that Tony had aimed at his abdomen. Either way Tony could see how the boy's body actually relaxed and he could feel that the tremors in his own hands became less pronounced.

"There was this one lady."

He brought the needle closer to the wound margin and pressed it through the boy's skin. Peter twitched underneath his hands, a deep gasp escaped him, but Tony kept his eyes firmly on the wound and kept up a steady flow of words. A distraction from this impossible situation they were both desperate for.

"That was really one of the first ones after I became Iron Man. I'd fought with... well... I had this fight with this guy who was trying to kill me in Downtown LA. At one point he used random cars as missiles trying to flatten me."

He managed to have the needle pierce the other side of the wound's margin, extracted it completely and tied a knot with the suture thread.

That was number one.

"I'm not talking parked cars. He just picked them off the road as they were passing, people still in them, and threw them at me. That was... that was really early on. I hadn't even come out to the world as Iron Man at that point."

The needle pierced Peter's skin again. The boy moaned through gritted teeth.

"So, I caught one of the cars and it had this family inside." He tied the second knot. "I balance it, held it right above my head and then the lady just starts hitting the gas."

The third stitch made the Spiderling scream out.

"Obviously that made me fall over. And with them on top of me."

Tony keep up the story. He hadn't even thought of that night in forever and wrecked his brain for as many details as he could remember from that fight. Save the identity of his opponent. That was one of the few secrets he had actually managed to keep quiet about over the years.

By the 11th stitch, the boy was sobbing heavily and Tony did have to stop. He put a dressing over the last part of the wound that still gaped open. The boy would need a minute to collect himself. His hand came to rest on the Spiderling's upper arm. There wasn't much comfort from the pain he could give the boy.

"It's okay, kid. We're almost done. A couple more, then you made it."

The boy covered his face with his hands, shaking from silent sobs. Tony gave him a couple more minutes to calm down. An allusion of calm really. That wound was already agitated and it didn't matter if they'd wait 5 minutes or 10, it would do neither of them any good at this point, but only draw out the inevitable.

"It's only three more stitches, then we're done."

The boy nodded. "Tell.. tell me... why..."

"Well, the stitches shouldn't be too far apart to keep the pressure even on the tissue around-"

"No." The boy took a deep breath. "Why... why they sued."

Tony frowned. He let out a deep breath and forced some calm and warmth into his voice. "Oh... Well." He got back into position to continue with the sutures. "The bottom of their car did not do too well when it was thrown into Iron Man."

He pierced the skin once more and the boy's whole abdomen shook from pain in reaction to it.

"So, after I couldn't keep my mouth shut and had to tell everyone about how I'm Iron Man, the car owner, of course, put two and two together and decided that I should pay for a new car, emotional distress, and some medical bills."

He tied another knot, his monologue a flimsy barrier between himself and the boy's whimpers.

"So, they dragged me to court. Well, not that I went myself."

He worked as fast as he dared. He needed this to be over with, preferably without screwing it up.

"I send my lawyers to the first hearing, armed with a recording of the fight from the suit's point of view."

He shook his head as he tied another knot. _Only one more to go._

"That family was lucky to be alive. And so was I."

The boy's abdomen was vibrating violently from his heavy breathing and the tremors of pain that shot through him.

"The last one, kid. We're almost there."

He let one of his hands rest on the boy's torso for another moment, waiting. Those shivers would have to ease off. The Spiderling had his face buried in his hands and was not even trying to hide his sobs anymore.

"Pete..."

Tony reached for his arm, but the kid didn't react. Maybe he should just skip the last stitch, give the boy a night of rest, maybe take another go at it in the morning. No… he couldn't risk an unevenly distributed pressure on the wound. The stitches were holding for now, but any inadvertent movement, another panic attack or even if he woke from a trauma infused nightmare could change that if the stitches were skimped. There was no way that Tony would risk them tearing the boy's flesh because he had been sloppy.

"Hey kid, look at me."

Tony tightened the grip on the boy's arm. Peter led his hands slowly fall, his face pale.

"You... you... done?"

He could only manage a whisper and Tony fought his own pulse that jumped right up again. But he would not let his own weakness make this potentially worse for the kid.

"One more. I need you to try and stay still."

The boy gasped for air, his cheeks wet with tears.

"It's just one more, but I can't do it like this. I don't want to hurt you."

The sound that escaped the boy could have been a sob as well as a laugh. This was ridiculous of course. Tony had done nothing but cause him pain for the past 20 minutes. He patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"Take a deep breath and just hold it. And then we're done."

The Spiderling nodded, breathed in deep as Tony turned back to the wound. It engaged the boy's muscles just enough to calm the tremor in his abdomen and allowed Tony to hit the right spot. As soon as the needle pierced the kid's skin he cried out again and all the air left his lungs with a scream.

"There we go."

Another wave of shivers ran through the Spiderling, but Tony had managed to place the suture well enough. His hand found the boys arm again, patted it once more. Tony directed him to hold his breath one more time, so he could tie the last knot. The boy lay panting and stared at the sutures. He only hissed when Tony used an antiseptic swab to clean the area once more before he covered it with a new wound dressing.

Tony felt light-headed, elated that this was over. He had no idea if it would be enough for the boy to heal. The thought that it wouldn't be left his hands wet with nervous sweat. He used the bandages to roughly clean the boy's blood off the table, discarded the used supplies and headed for the bar. He really needed a drink and picked up some water for the kid on the way.

"FRIDAY, we could probably do with some soup for the boy. Beef broth or something. Find someone who delivers something fresh and fast."

_**"On it, Boss."**_

Tony walked back to the table, set the water down next to the kid, then let himself fall onto the couch.

"And Chicken Fried Rice with some Egg Rolls."

_**"Right away, Sir."**_

He took a deep gulp of his whiskey.

"Do we have any dark chocolate lying around?"

_**"Not that I'm aware of, Sir. There might be food left in one of the communal kitchens on a different level, but I have no access to those parts of the building presently."**_

"Order some of that as well."

_**"Yes, Sir."**_

He took another gulp of his drink before he looked over to the boy on the table in front of him. The kid still had his eyes firmly looked on the ceiling and wiped his face from time to time.

_**"Boss, I send the orders out and there is a call waiting for you."**_

"Thanks, FRI."

He fished his phone out of his pocket and Natasha's face popped up on the display. He sighed and glanced over to the kid.

"I'll have to take this..." He stood up. Before he walked off he opened the water bottle for the boy. "Drink something. Food will be here soon."

The kid nodded weakly.

"I'll be right back."

He didn't pick up the call before he had reached his bedroom.

"What do you want?"

"Don't you have that telephone etiquette down to a T!"

"Seriously, Nat. What's up."

"I wanted to talk."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now. I'm outside the lab. Just open the damn door."

Tony suppressed a groan and thought of an imaginative amount of curse words he'd like to utter at that.

"Don't be a baby!"

"I'm not..."

"I can hear you bitch and moan all the way out here. We need to talk."

"I'm not in the lab."

_Well, that shut her up._

"Nat..."

"Just a little stunned. Are you looking for the Spider already?"

Tony rolled his eyes. He stepped closer to his bedroom windows, further away from the door that led out to the living room.

"No, I'm not looking for the Spider."

He tried to reign in his snark to not accidentally overemphasize the "looking" part of that sentence.

"Are you out drinking again?"

He let himself fall onto his bed and placed the empty whiskey glass onto the bedside table.

"Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Listen, Tony, I know you're pissed, but you need to meet me half-way here."

"I'm not pissed. I'm just busy. Can we do this tomorrow?"

"You said the Spider-dude had a routine that was easy to crack. He might still be out there..."

"Not tonight. We can't drag him anywhere tonight. Let's talk about this tomorrow!"

"Why are you whispering?"

He sat up straight on the bed. "What? I'm not... I... I just have company."

"Pepper is in LA."

"Jesus, Nat. Not that kind of company."

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm in Manhattan and now I have to go. We will deal with this tomorrow!"

"Urgh, fine!"

She hung up before he could. His face rested in his hands. It was quite the pickle he had gotten himself into with the Spider-Boy. As he got back to the living room, he found the kid had sat up on the table.

"Jeeze, kid. Where do you think you're going?"

The boy turned to him, clearly uncomfortable.

"Getting a bit sore on that tabletop, hm?"

The boy hesitated when Tony offered him a hand to get off the table.

"The couch will probably be easier on your back."

He kept his hand stretched out towards him and frowned when the kid still hesitated to accept the help.

"Boss, the delivery is on its way up in the elevator."

"Thanks, FRI. Come one, kid."

He stepped a little closer, put his arm around the boy's back, which did prompt the Spiderling to hold onto his shoulder. Tony helped him over to the couch, a pillow popped up against the armrest to support the boy's back, he had stretched his legs out on the couch. The kid was still in what remained of his torn onesie, He should probably try to find some clothes that could fit the boy. For now, he picked up a blanket from the other end of the couch. He stopped himself from actually covering the kid with it. This was all starting to feel a little awkward. The degree of mothering to which Tony was apparently secretly capable of came as a bit of a shock. So he just left the blanket within reach for him, just in case, he did want it. The boy had grabbed it to cover his legs and most of his upper body when Tony returned from the elevator with the food containers in hand. Both of them stayed quiet while Tony unpacked the delivery, carefully handed the Spiderling the soup as well as the chocolate.

They sat. They ate. The atmosphere had taken a turn for the awkward silence. The boy might just be exhausted from the whole ordeal, but it felt like there was more to it. Tony glanced over to the boy again and again, but he had his eyes fixed on that beef broth. He might just have trouble with the broth as his hands were still shaking considerably.

"You alright there?"

"Yeah... yeah."

And they were back to more silence.

_Great. _

Then the boy did look up at him.

"Why didn't you... just... just get them a new car?"

"Excuse me?"

"You have all this... money and, and... all this tech. And they... they just happened to be... in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why not just give them a break?"

"Because if they sue me and I just give them stuff, there're about 300 Million other people who'd suddenly need some new stuff too."

"Right."

The kid cast his eyes back down to his soup. Tony bit his lip for a moment as he studied the boy, then tilted his head before he turned back to his food.

"They were alright, you know..."

"Yeah, okay."

"In fact, they happened to win tickets to this morning talk show in LA just a couple of weeks later."

He looked up from his food to see the kid staring at him again.

"Yeah, I think the lady had to participate in some kind of..." he screwed up his face like he tried to remember some far off detail of the anecdote. "charades... or a word quiz kinda thing. Apparently, she got a new car and a few thousand dollars out of it."

He cast his eyes back down to the food and scooped up some more of his Fried Rice.

"You... you gave them a car... after all?"

Tony kept his eyes down on the food.

"They won it. In a talk show game."

"I don't... I don't understand."

Tony looked up to find the boy rub at his eyes. He stood up and walked over to the couch and took the broth out of the Spiderling's hands.

"That's alright. You need to rest anyway."

"Just... why... why not just tell them..."

"Sometimes, some people deserve a lucky break. Most people can handle a lucky break a lot better than charity."

He patted the boy's shoulder and walked over to the next room into the kitchen to put away the food. By the time he got back, the Spiderling had nodded off.

So, Tony and his phone made themselves comfortable in the armchair opposite the couch again.

_[author's note: thank you guys for reading. I'm glad to see and hear that you enjoy reading the story :) ]_


	12. Of Trust and Lies - Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Of Trust and Lies **

Sitting in his chair, Tony pondered the situation he had gotten himself into. An injured minor lying on his couch that a Super Soldier and his entourage were looking for, in fact, had demanded of him to bring in for questioning. He knew there was exactly one choice to be made here. One choice that was responsible and right. A 14-year-old boy could not jump around New York like that. He'd go and get himself killed, case in point his current state. Plus, Tony was part of a team and he should be pulling his weight. The only right choice was to get the boy to the Compound.

But then why did it feel like such a bad choice to make...

Tony bit his lip. His eyes darted up from his phone over to the kid on his couch. He almost dropped the device when he found the boy staring back at him. The Spiderling had woken up.

The boy averted his eyes and cleared his throat. "What time is it?" He looked around the living room, probably in search for a clock.

"Why? Do you have places to be?"

The Spiderling rolled his eyes at him.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

The kid's hands came up to cover his face and with that the red flush that was creeping up from his neck.

"FRIDAY, time?"

_**"It's 12:35 am, Sir."**_

The Spiderling sat up on the couch with a start and immediately curled inwardly towards his knife wound.

"Seriously, kid!" Tony actually jumped up out of the chair himself. "I'd really appreciated it if you didn't pull out your stitches!"

The boy groaned and hid his face behind his pulled up knees.

"You alright?"

"Yeah... yeah..."

"Did it feel like something ripped?"

"No... It's... it's alright."

"I..." Tony cleared his throat, sitting back down. "I found some stuff for you to wear. There's a room down the hall, where you can sleep."

Peter looked up at him, biting his lip.

"Again... if there's someone I should be calling..." He raised his eyebrows at him expectantly, phone still in hand.

The boy let himself fall back against the pillow. He stared at the hands in his lap, nervously picking at his fingernails.

Tony tried to keep his hands steady. His fingers twitched but he suppressed the urge to drum them against his phone.

"You're going to bring me to them, aren't you?"

Tony's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I... yeah... I mean I guess... If you tell me who-"

"To the Avengers." The kid swallowed hard, his eyes still cast down to his hands. "They... they want you to... to bring me in and... and you're gonna do that..." The kid's eyes turned to him. "You're planning to do that... in the morning... aren't you?"

Tony sat up straight. Alright, he had not expected the boy to be this perceptive. Or maybe he'd just let himself be blinded by his own hope to get out of this whole thing without getting sued over child endangerment. If the kid just told him about his family, Tony could hand him over to them and possibly pretend he didn't know anything about any of this.

"Listen, kid-"

The boy sat back up - considerably more carefully - just as Tony started speaking, fists clenched, eyes wide and pleading.

"Mr. Stark. Please..."

"Okay, hold on for a moment."

"...I swear I'll stay out of trouble..."

"I haven't really decided..."

"...I won't ever show up—"

"Peter!"

The boy stopped, let his head drop and rest in his hands with a deep sigh.

"They just want to talk."

The kid looked up at him again, his face balled up in frustration.

"They chased me through half of Manhattan."

Tony shrugged.

"Well, they really... _really_ wanted to talk."

"You know, how you freaked out... when you found out... If they find out-"

"Oh, Cap will blow a gasket."

"Mr. Stark, please..."

"You put yourself on the map today, kid. I'm not sure how you expect me to help you with this. Eventually, they'll find you and there's literally nothing I can do about that."

The boy let his head drop again and buried it in his hands.

"It's not gonna be a disaster. They..." Tony sighed, rubbing his neck. "I don't think they would hand you over to the authorities. They just want to know that you're not a threat."

The kid head shot up, his eyes red and glistening, obviously trying to hold back tears.

"Can't you just tell them, that I'm not? Please, Mr. Stark..."

Tony leaned back in his armchair and laughed.

"What makes you think they'd take my word for it?"

"You're Iron Man!"

Tony sobered up. He fixed the boy with a stare.

"And what makes you think, that I don't believe you to be a threat?"

The boy's mouth slammed shut. He swallowed, confusion overtaking the pleading look his face had been sporting just before.

"But... you know... I told you... I just want to help."

Tony shifted in his chair. He slowly leaned forward, fixing the kid with a stare.

"You refuse to tell me anything about yourself. Who you are, why you're doing this, where you belong, who your family is if you even have one. What if that cut had been a little deeper, huh? What if you'd bled out on my balcony tonight, leaving me with no idea who to call and who to inform? You run around this town like you're invincible when you're not!"

He got up from his chair. His phone slid into his pants' pocket as he turned towards the window and paced back and forth.

"I know nothing about you and you're determined to keep as much about yourself from me as you can, but _I'm_ supposed to trust _you_? You want me to stick my neck out and make them some kind of guarantee about your character? About your intentions?"

Tony looked him up and down, huddled on his couch.

"Tell me why! Why do you do this?"

He waited for the boy to answer, but the Spiderling just shook his head in confusion, dabbing at his eyes.

"I don't... I don't understand."

"You're a kid. You're supposed to obsess about social media and music... movies... video games... and run around with your little friends. And yet you put yourself in a ridiculous amount of danger. Why?"

He studied the boy, watched him fiddle with the blanket.

"I..." The kid cleared his throat. His hand flew up to his eyes again, rubbing at them. "I've had these... powers... for six months." The kid threw his head back and blinked rapidly. "I can't tell people, that I'm different. I can't tell my friends or... or my family. It just... it would change _everything_."

"Look around you, Spiderling. It's too late for that. Everything has already changed. You need to stop going down this road or you'll have to live with the consequences!"

The kid was still staring at his hands, avoiding Tony's eyes.

"I... I don't think, I can." The kid swallowed and slowly shook his head. "When you... When you can do the things that I can, but you don't... and then the bad things happen..." His eyes drifted off his hands up to Tony. "Then they happen because of you."

Tony sighed and turned away from him towards the windows. He let his hands run through his hair and brought more distance between himself and Peter. He'd grown soft. This whole mess he had somehow slipped into wanting to protect Pepper. He should have stayed out of all of this.

"Jeez, kid." He turned back to face the boy from across the room. "You're killing me. Couldn't you have just turned out to be some attention seeking jackass-y little troublemaker?"

He swung back around, his back to the kid, but he could still see him in the reflection of the window as the boy shuffled uncomfortably on the couch.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." His voice low, eyes not straying from the kid, as he crossed his arms.

He knew that Nat was right. He'd have to give them something on Spider-Man. They wouldn't let this go. But, damn, that kid was likable. So likable it was actually suspicious because he didn't just find people likable. Maybe with the exception of Pepper. He usually had to work for it to even tolerate most people in his space.

_**"Sir, there's a call waiting for you."**_

"Just take a message, FRI."

_**"It's Miss Potts calling."**_

He groaned, turning on his heal.

_Speaking of the devil. Wonderful. Of course, __now_ _she'd call..._

"You!" He pointed at the boy. "You stay put. We're not done here. I'll be right back."

His eyes still fixed on the Spiderling he walked towards his bedroom. He fished his phone out of his pocket on the way.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And what was that?"

"I'll... I'll stay put."

"FRIDAY, keep an eye on him."

_**"Yes, Sir."**_

He took a deep breath, a shiver of anxiety ran down his spine as he entered his bedroom and picked up the call.

"Hi, Potts."

"Mr. Stark..."

He let out a nervous chuckle.

"That bad, huh?"

He hated doing this over the phone. He thought about switching this to a video call so he would at least be able to work off of her body language, but decided against it. Pepper would usually video call him and the fact that she didn't was telling in itself. It had taken long enough to get her on the phone in the first place. He couldn't screw this up.

"Yes, I'd say so."

"Pepper, I'm sorry." He paced up and down along the window front of the bedroom. "I should have picked up the phone. I should have known, that you were worried. I'm sorry."

"I've waited for you to call me."

He stopped, his forehead wrinkled into a frown.

"I... I did. I called every day for a week and a half."

"Not today you didn't. I've been looking at reports from that terrorist attack in Manhattan all day..."

"Oh, Pepper..."

"I know, we're broken up and the last couple of months have been tough, but we're still supposed to be friends, Tony! At the very least I'm still your CEO!"

"I'm sorry, Pep. I... Things today were a little crazy and-"

"Things with you are always crazy!"

"I'm sorry..."

She stayed quiet on the other end of the line and Tony let himself fall onto the bed. How did he fuck up like this again and again? He aimed for a more lighthearted tone to mellow the conversation.

"God, Potts. When we broke up I really thought that at least you wouldn't have to worry about these kinds of things anymore."

"I saw pictures from today. From the... scene."

Tony was massaging his temples with one hand. There had been a bit of fire back and forth, a couple of grenades. Had the site looked that bad? When they had left the NYPD to handle the reopening of the street he had taken a quick assessment of the situation but—

"Seems like Spider-Man helped you out."

Tony sat up straight. At last the icy turn her voice had taken struck him with full force.

"Pepper—"

"You lied to me."

"I didn't..."

"You said you'd never even met the guy!"

"Pepper, I hadn't."

His heart cramped painfully. If she had been in the room with him he might have been able to calm her but like this... What idiot even came up with fucking telephones? Some conversations were just never meant to be had any other way than face to face.

"You even had FRIDAY lie to my face!"

"Can you let me explain this for a second?"

"Let me guess, he just happened to show up and you had nothing to do with it?"

"I went to see him on the night you came to the Compound." He waited a moment for her to interject, but she didn't. "I didn't know anything about him before you told me about what happened to you. Then I got worried about someone targeting you." He was desperate for her to understand but Pepper was still quiet on the other end of the line. "I checked him out then. I didn't lie to you. I would never lie to you about something that is this important."

"Why didn't you just tell me that that's where you were going? Why is getting any information out of you always such a struggle, Tony?"

"I called you. I tried to talk to you!"

"The next day! After I was up all night trying to find you. I called and called you! I left messages. I called Rhodey. I even tried to make FRIDAY tell me about your location! You couldn't even be bothered to send a text?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

He got back up. He had no solution for this. He didn't even know where to begin. It was impossible to stay still so he paced around the room again.

"Tell me what to do, Pepper. I don't know... I don't know how to fix this, other than telling you that I'm sorry."

He was still pacing but there was only silence on the other end of the line.

"Pepper, just talk to me."

"I don't know. I don't know how you can _fix_ this. I don't know if there is even anything to fix at this point."

"Come on, don't say that..."

"I have an early day tomorrow."

"Pepper, please... Don't. I—"

"Goodnight, Tony."

"Pepper..."

He looked down at his phone screen, but she'd already disconnected the call. He threw the phone against the opposite wall of the room and turned to punch his first again the glass of the window. He cursed wildly before he quickly went around the bed to pick the phone back up. He dialed Pepper's number. The call only went to voicemail. The first and the second and also the third time. He sat down on the bed and rested his face in his hands. He was gonna fix this. Somehow. He didn't know how, but he'd find a way. He just had to.

* * *

Peter was still huddled on the sofa in Tony Stark's penthouse. He could hear that the man had picked up the call and just like before he could hear his side of the conversation just fine. He forced himself to stop. Listening in on his conversation with Miss Potts seemed like more of an intrusion of Stark's privacy. In this case, there was very little room to excuse his eavesdropping with a healthy sense of self-preservation. He reached for the clothes that Stark had left for him at the end of the couch.

0:35 in the morning. Probably 0:50 am by now. A little more than three hours till May would get off her night shift. If she came home and only found an empty room with Peter nowhere in sight, it wouldn't matter what Stark or the Avengers had in store for him. She'd just track him down and kill him. And then probably revive him just so she could kill him a second time after she'd found out what kind of trouble Peter had gotten himself into.

_She couldn't find out. Not like this__. __He couldn't let that happen._

Peter's gaze went up to the ceiling. That was where the lady's voice had come from. It was probably some kind of AI. Not even Tony Stark would have a PA sitting around all day catering to his every whim. Or would he? Was someone actually watching him? He cast his eyes down. He had to leave. He had to get home. Maybe Stark was right and he'd gone too far. Maybe his life was bound to change completely now, just like he had known it must one day after he'd discovered his powers. But not like this. Not with the Avengers showing up on May's doorstep. If there was a chance that he could keep things normal a little while longer, maybe calmly let May in on his secret then he had to try. He had to leave.

Sure, Stark would probably be pissed, but between May and the looming threat of the Avengers what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't just sit there like a scared little boy and wait for things to fall into place. Last time he went for that approach he'd lost Ben. He wouldn't give up without a fight. He'd go home and spend time with May and Ned. With the decathlon team and go to prom. He might have to lay low for a bit, but there was still time to fix this. There had to be.

He took a deep breath before he slowly moved his legs down to the floor. His wounds still hurt. He could feel the throbbing of the cut in his abdomen. The cut on his face still stung as well. Most of the smaller abrasions and cuts were either on the mend or simply drowned out by those two serious wounds. With the few hours of sleep he had gotten at the Tower, he certainly felt a little better. Strong enough to get home... Well, he had to try. Standing up was the worst part. He tried to put most of the strain on his right side, tried to engage his abdominal muscles as little as possible. Once he was on his feet, the pain subsided and he felt more confident. He made his way over to the table where Stark had stitched him up and picked up his mask. The fabric was bloody and torn, but it was the best and only way to keep his face hidden once he made it to the outside of the Tower.

He took a deep breath, braced himself before he carefully walked over to the balcony door. There were no handles. He had no idea how to open it. He casts a shy look up to the ceiling. The door had fallen shut when Stark had instructed the lady - the AI? - to close it. Maybe it wasn't even possible to just open it manually...

"Well." Another deep breath and he took his courage in both hands. "Here goes nothing."

He pressed his shaking hands against the glass, pushed his weight against the door, but nothing happened. The door didn't move. He peered into the direction of where Stark had disappeared to. Quickly he turned back. Deep breaths. He would not think about what Stark might do if he found him trying to jailbreak his penthouse. The panic attack he'd had earlier was still vividly on his mind and he could not let himself go back to that place of despair but his pulse had picked up anyway. There was bound to be some kind of alarm that would go off any second. His eyes flickered up to the ceiling but nothing happened. He pushed again, tried to slide it to one side then the other. Nothing.

"Well, that was anti-climactic." He stepped back, taking his hands off the glass.

Now what?

Again, his glance went up to the ceiling. He bit his lip. He didn't really have much to lose.

"Excuse me, lady... erm... Friday? Would you mind opening the door for me? I'd... I'd really like some fresh air..." he grimaced at the high pitched, nervous voice and the pathetic words coming out of his mouth.

**_"I'm sorry, Spider-Man. Access to the outside deck is limited to people with A1 authorization only."_**

_Fuck._

He turned to face the room, leaned his back against the window.

_**"For open-air visitor access, I recommend the recreational viewing platforms situated on the 25th or 50th-floor Sky Lobbies."**_

His eyes shot back up to the ceiling.

"Could you... Would you mind calling the elevator for me?"

_**"Certainly."**_

Peter's heart rate spiked and he made his way over to the elevator as fast and quietly as possible, ignoring the pain that pierced him with every step. The doors opened right when he reached them. Panting, he stepped inside. Where the hell were the buttons? There was only an access card scanner, a handprint pad, and an emergency switch were attached to the elevator's wall. He spoke up once more.

"Erm... Friday. Could you... could you bring me to the 25th-floor sky lobby? Please?"

_**"Certainly, Spider-Man. Please be advised, to regain access to your current floor - Penthouse 68 - authorization will have to be granted by a person with A1 level clearance. I would be happy to let Mr. Stark know about—"**_

"No!" He cleared his throat. "That's... that's alright. I don't want to disturb his call. We can... we can just tell him when I want to come back up again."

_**"Very well, Spider-Man."**_

The doors closed and a soft shiver went down Peter's spine as the elevator raced to the 25th floor.

* * *

Tony was lying on his bed, thinking, calculating. He could probably find a reason why he had to go to LA. There was bound to be stuff that R&D at the LA headquarters had been haranguing him about, that he'd put off. Pepper would probably know that it was just a ruse to see her, but he'd still feel like saving face in front of everyone who wasn't Pepper. First, he had to get things around New York in order though.

He got up and walked towards the living room, phone in hand, scrolling through his calendar. Early next week would probably work. It'd give her time to cool down and he would have a few days to figure out what to do with his spider problem.

"Alright, kid. It's been a long day. How about..." He'd looked up and found the couch empty. He looked around the room. The clothes he'd laid out for the boy were gone. As was his mask.

_Oh, hell no..._

"FRIDAY, please tell me that you showed the kid to the guest room..."

_**"Spider-Man was asking for fresh air. I directed him to the Sky Lobbies that are accessible for visitors without security clearance."**_

Tony turned towards the elevator, pulse racing.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why would you do that? I told you to keep an eye on him!"

_**"Boss, all his movement has been recorded and cataloged as long as he was in reach of my sensors or the tower's security surveillance system. He went to the Sky Lobby on the 25th floor and scaled the balustrade 20 minutes ago where he then moved outside of the tower's surveillance range."**_

He stopped in his tracks and groaned in frustration. He was gone. There was no point in looking at an empty viewing platform on the 25th floor.

"Shit. Why the fuck did you not alert me that he went down to the 25th floor?"

_**"I'm sorry, Boss. Protocol 'Pepperony' is currently activated, dictating that you are not to be disturbed while on a phone call with Miss Potts unless the city or world are literally or figuratively on fire."**_

He shook his head in frustration.

"Access all the security footage we have on that floor between the elevator and the viewing platform from the last 30 minutes send it to my phone."

_That damn kid._


	13. The Spider's Lair – Chapter 13

**The Spider's Lair - Chapter 13**

It was 3 am by the time Tony returned to the Compound. He had spent over an hour cleaning the penthouse, 40 minutes of that outside on the balcony at sub-zero temperatures scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees. A pool of the kid's blood had been half dried and half-frozen to the tiled floor of his balcony that seemed almost like a punishment for his foolishness. He also learned why you're not supposed to clean glass windows in winter. The damn cleaning product just kept freezing to the window front and actually enlarging the splashes of red, the bloody handprints the Spiderling's had left when he had been knocking on the penthouse windows.

_That damn kid._

It had taken him multiple attempts to get rid of the blood. Granted, the windows weren't exactly clean, but at least the traces of blood were gone. Now it only looked like someone had unsuccessfully tried to remove a couple of bird droppings. For now, that had to be good enough. The construction team he had hired was supposed to arrive by 7 am and he didn't want deal with any stories that were bound to make their way into the tabloids if the workers were to show up on his floor and find blood all over the place. Postponing the construction would have been an option but he needed to get out of the Compound. That peace and quiet away from team-building exercises and Super Soldiers' reproachful glances, he needed that badly. That was a priority he was not willing to postpone.

He didn't bother to use the main entrance when he arrived at the Compound. Their usual running routine would kick off just before 6 am. So it was unlikely that any of them would be up and about at 3 am, but Tony was not going to take any chances. He let FRIDAY guide the suit through his emergency door right into the lab.

"Alright, FRIDAY, pull up the video files from the Tower as well as the analysis we did on the Spiderling in February. See if you can tell what side of the building he climbed down on."

His suit had retracted itself and he sat down at his desk. The holographic keyboard popped up right in front of him.

_**"The files are being processed right now, Sir."**_

"Do we have access to any of the security footage from the streets around the Tower so we can see which way he went?"

Queens might have been the obvious guess, but there was always the possibility that the kid was clever enough not to go where Tony would definitely check.

_**"Sir, there are cameras that could have picked him up. However, we do not have access to those recordings, officially."**_

"Okay, let's not break any laws until we hit a dead end. Tell me -"

A strong knock on the door silenced him mid-sentence.

"FRI?"

_**"Captain Rogers is asking to see you, Boss."**_

"Blank!"

At once the files and calculations about Spider-Man's past movements that FRIDAY had projected in the middle of the room disappeared along with the keyboard.

_**"Good girl, open the door for the good Captain, would you."**_

"We have intel from Switzerland. We're leaving now!"

Tony's eyes widened and he shot up from his chair.

"Is it the same weapon signature as it was today?"

By the time Rogers had made it halfway through the lab to stand next to him, Tony had reached into the large bottom drawer of his desk for his go-bag.

"What?" Rogers shook his head in confusion. "No, it's intel on Bucky. We have footage of what is probably him and also a few eyewitnesses lined up."

Tony's chest deflated. His bag hit the ground with a soft bang.

"Woah, Cap. First of all, you almost gave me a heart attack. Second: That's a horrible idea!"

Rogers shook his head in confusion.

"Why?"

"Well, mostly cause you stormed in here like the country was gonna explode any second."

He shook his head again, his expression changing from confusion to annoyance.

"Why is it a bad idea?"

"Because it's Switzerland!"

"So?"

"One doesn't not simply fly a jet into Switzerland..." He suppressed a cocky smirk realizing that Rogers probably wouldn't get the joke and continued "They are a bit touchy about having foreign agents in their country."

Tony sat back down in his chair while Rogers crossed his arms.

"We're not going as American agents though."

"Yeah..." Tony screwed up his face incredulously. "I don't think they'll see it like that."

"We haven't had a lead in months! This is all we have and I have to follow up on it!"

"Listen to me, Steve. Flying into any country without informing their government of our intervention is risky and I'm assuming from who we're following here that is the plan, right? To keep this under the radar again?" Rogers only gave a curt nod of confirmation.

"We can't screw with Switzerland, Cap! They don't fuck around when it comes to their sovereignty and they are powerful!"

"We don't have time to discuss this. We might only get one shot here and I already made the decision. I'm taking Sam, Nat, and Wanda."

"Steve..."

"We need you to represent the team at the debrief with the national, state and city advisory board tomorrow regarding the operation in Manhattan."

Tony's jaw dropped as Rogers dropped a folder on his desk.

"You can't be serious."

"Tony, we need you with this!"

"You want me to walk in there on my own? After the closest call, we've had in the city in years?"

"We stopped them, didn't we?"

"Well, barely..."

Rogers turned towards the exit as Tony flicked through the documents.

"Are there some talking points in here as well, in case you guys get shot down over Switzerland?"

"I need to go, Tony. We'll be on radio silence as soon as we get in European radar range."

With fast steps, Rogers exited the lab leaving Tony with a folder to study and a brewing headache.

Peter had made it to the apartment with less than 30 minutes to spare. His progress had been slow and painful. By the time he had climbed the wall to his bedroom he was absolutely exhausted. He managed to find an oversized band-aid in the small stash of supplies he had carefully collected over the past months. There was the odd item he had taken from friends' bathrooms or the school nurse so he wouldn't have to spend the little pocket money he had on medical supplies. Said band-aid now covered the gash on the left side of his face. Mr. Stark had taped the cut, but that wasn't good enough for Peter. He needed the cut to be covered up in its entirety. If nobody could see it, nobody would register how fast it was healing. He didn't really have a reference for a cut like that on his face. Hopefully, it would heal just as fast as the smaller cuts and bruises that he had suffered here and there in the past. He sure as hell wasn't going to reopen this one to mimic regular people's healing time. Applying the band-aid was the only thing he could stomach after the day's events. He crawled under the covers, hadn't even bothered to change out of Mr. Stark's clothes. Worst case scenario it'd take too long with his body aching all over or that he wouldn't hide them well enough from May in the dark. Or that it would hurt again when he would try to take off the clothes. He felt his pulse pick up just thinking about the pain.

_Nope. No, no, no..._

Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Happy thoughts. He'd have to think happy thoughts, distract himself. Another panic attack would be incredibly inconvenient right now. So, he thought of sunshine and summer and how he totally wanted to try out water skiing. He was exhausted and not falling asleep was a struggle, but he couldn't sleep yet. May would check on him when she got home, which would be any minute now. There couldn't be anything to tip her off, no clues for her to pick up on. He'd placed his face strategically onto the pillow, propped up his head just enough that the wound on his face wasn't touching the bed, because pain, but was at the same time obstructed from view, because May. All he wanted was to lie on his right side and draw himself into a fetal position. He was quite sure that his body would promptly do exactly that when he would let himself fall asleep. But that wasn't an option right now, because May...

So for now, Peter had to try and stay awake. He was lying on his back, face turned to the side, sheets pulled up all the way to his chin so they hid Stark's clothes.

He heard May before she even put the key into the lock. He had heard the elevator move and that just had to be her. When her key was pushed into the lock, he took a deep breath and turned his head a little further to the left. Maybe this angle looked a little too unnatural... He turned back a bit. Eyes closed, his breathing sounded weirdly loud and forced. How did he usually breathe? Surely not as fast as he did right then. His heart hammered away in his chest and he was sure that even without any enhanced senses May must be hearing it all the way from the living room. Another deep breath to calm himself as her steps echoed down the corridor getting closer to his room. He willed his body to relax and not to look too suspicious.

She opened the door and for a moment she just stood there. There was a hot flush that crept from his neck all the way into his face. It would be too dark for her to see that though, right? But she didn't move further into the room, just whispering a low "Goodnight, honey.", backed out of the room and closed the bedroom door.

* * *

There was a constant drumming, a dull rhythmic sound, that was going to drive Tony up the wall. He was surrounded by city officials, the Governor, a couple of Senators and Congress(wo)men as well as members of the NYPD, FDNY, and some National Security advisors. They were well into the 7th hour of a meeting that didn't seem to want to end. Currently, he was sitting through the rant of another security advisor to the chief staff person of he didn't even know. If they'd at least be a little creative but no, it was the same lecture about decorum, responsibility, accountability and so on and so forth. He was pretty sure that he had heard that exact speech at least four times already in this meeting alone. Had these men compared notes and stolen passages from each other or had they all simply googled "speech on accountability" and then printed out the first result that had popped up?

Either way, even if the dude would have had something of substance to say, Tony would have had a hard time to concentrate on the rant. _Someone_ was being annoying as fuck, drumming away under the table. His money was on the small bald dude three seats down from him whose hands had disappeared underneath the table and his pen was nowhere in sight.

_Dude with the pen in the conference room. Bingo. Case closed._

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony looked up. Right, terrorists. Manhattan. He forced his thoughts to pivot back to the topic at hand. The colored glasses he was wearing were supposed to give him a bit of cover, but there was a possibility that his head had started to tilt over to his shoulder far enough to make him look suspiciously absent. Mentally at least. Chances were low that he'd get out of this room any time soon. He sat up straight and suppressed the urge to stretch out his arms to relax the muscles in his back.

"Do you understand, why that is a problem for us?" The security advisor to the chief staff–person had his eyes narrowed. Tony swallowed his amusement. Please, he'd gotten those kinds of stares for decades. They had to step up their game if they were planning on guilt-tripping him.

"I can see that you're frustrated with the current process. I'm still waiting for a suggestion on how it is supposed to be improved."

The dude's fist hit the table. "It's not a process! It's simply you doing whatever you want at any given time!"

Tony's eyebrows shot up behind his glasses. Tsk, tsk, tsk. So little stamina, so easily tossing one strategy out of the window, swinging for intimidation now. Were they not aware who they are talking to? "Well, if that was true, I'd certainly not be sitting here getting yelled at for 7 hours after saving a few million citizens in Manhattan yesterday."

"Mr. Stark..." Congresswoman Alicia Davis spoke up. A wave of her hand silenced the former speaker. "Of course New York is grateful for your assistance..."

"Oh 'assistance', is it..." Tony rolled his eyes, his voice only a low mumble.

"...but I'm sure you can understand our concerns. We want to be included in the decision-making process to weigh the risks and benefits for our constituents."

"Congresswomen Davis, like I have said before," He really tried not to over-stress the 'before' part of that sentence even though he felt like he'd been having the same conversation over and over again today. "We are absolutely happy to work with you on these issues, but situations like the one in question here, require fast and immediate action. I can assure you that we have enough on our plates that we will only directly and immediately engage in situations where the threats to human life are so severe and imminent that the government departments would be unable to stop them. We are perfectly happy to leave any other problems that the NYPD or the Military or whoever responsible _can_ handle by themselves for the relevant authorities to actually _do_ handle with their _own_ expertise."

"Oh yeah?! Well, that's not what we have been experiencing!" Big, mustache dude – judging by the uniform he was wearing from the NYPD – banged _his_ fist on the table and glared at Tony.

"Excuse me?" That Alpha male line these dudes constantly pushed was seriously getting on his nerves.

"You have been sending in your Spider guy, screwing us all over Queens and even Manhattan! Is that what you call 'leaving things' to the 'relevant authorities'?"

Behind his glasses, Tony rolled his eyes so far he was sure he could actually feel his eye muscles strain – if that even was a thing.

_That damn kid._

* * *

Peter was on his way home from another _glorious_ day at school. It was getting harder and harder to remember why he still kept his not-so-new found powers quiet. Sure, he wanted to keep his life the way it had always been. That was the mature things to do, right? But with idiots like Flash who ruined a huge portion of his school days that approach now seemed less and less logical. He sighed and strolled out of one of the school's side entrances. It wasn't his usual direct route to get home. This way he'd only have to jump a smaller fence on the eastern side of the school grounds though, not the wall to the south of the school. Jumping the fence was still quicker than if he left through the front entrance and he was less likely to run into anyone that he would have rather avoided, including Ned. Ned who'd been very inquisitive about the band-aid on his face and the stiffness of his movements in general. With a glance first to the left and then to the right, he was confident that nobody was around to see him. All it took was a little bend in the knees to gather momentum and he took a leap over the fence. His body still ached from the beating it had taken two days ago. The fence had been the right choice. There was no way that he could have managed the wall with a quick jump. Even this shallow jump was a challenge for his still-healing knife wound. Pain shot through his abdomen when his feet came down on the other side of the wall. The impact left him paralyzed and he took a few deep breaths while he cowered on the ground for a moment and waited for the pain to subside. He panted slowly and deeply before he lifted himself up.

"Alright... just shake it off..." His voice was only a quiet murmur to himself as he felt a shiver run through his body. "You're good. You're great. Okay, then." Home. That was all he needed. Just to get home. There were a couple of spots on his route where he could pick up some comfort food, but really he just wanted to get into his room, close the blinds and simply mope.

"You're not pathetic. You just need a break. Everyone needs a break at some point."

_And talking to yourself is totally not pathetic either. Lots of people do it. Probably._

Maybe he was too weak for all this, specifically for the consequences that came with crime-fighting. But right now that didn't matter. He was too strung out, too close to his breaking point to even think about that out in the open. Physically that night in Manhattan had shown him his limits. He was not untouchable and apparently he had had to learn that the hard way. But while his body was slowly healing it was his mind that was strung to a point he could barely handle. There was a sense of dread that followed him around. He avoided alleyways he'd not have thought about crossing through twice just a week ago. It felt like his Spidey-senses had failed him, hadn't properly tipped him off about what kind of danger he had been in two nights ago. Or maybe he'd just gotten too cocky and narcissistic with his focus on the Avengers for the alarm bells to register. How was he supposed to trust himself? He couldn't... not until he decided what exactly had gone wrong. The mere thought of that night gave him shivers though. He couldn't think about it. Not yet. And then he felt guilty as well. His senses had again and again picked up incidents over the last couple of days, but his injuries and his mental weakness just wouldn't allow him to help the people that needed him.

The night at Stark Tower still worried him, too. Sure, Stark didn't know anything about him, only his first name, but the man had found him in the middle of Queens by looking at a few youtube videos. When he had left – well, let's be honest, fled – the Tower, he had left the remnants of his suit behind, only grabbed his mask. The web-shooters had still been attached to his wrists. He had exposed himself, said too much. He knew that. But what else could he have done? There was no one else. He couldn't tell anybody and trusting Stark... well, Peter didn't _trust_ him, he had needed someone that was not gonna sell him out right away. That whole night at the Tower had been crazy and even though Stark had called off the EMTs when he found out, it still complicated things to a degree that unnerved Peter. Unnerved might be putting it a little bit too casual. It petrified him.

If he hadn't skipped out on Stark, May would have only found his empty bed when she got home from work. That just hadn't been a viable option. Plus, it was the only shot he had to keep himself safe. He wasn't sure if Stark would have actually handed him over to the other Avengers, but the risk was too high for him to stay and find out. It was the only way, even if it meant that he had broken his promise, had left even though he had given his word to stay put. A breach of confidence like that would not be something that Tony Stark would take lightly.

"Screw it!" He turned left instead of continuing down the street to get home. It was a detour, but he needed to make a stop at Delmar's. Today's mood required a special treat.

With his usual order in hand, he made it back to the apartment in record time. He crashed into his bedroom, threw his backpack into the corner of the room, closed the blinds and slid to the floor. Sandwich first. Maybe it would be enough of a pick-me-up to get him to finally change that wound dressing himself. He hadn't dared to touch it and the longer he waited the worse he felt the dread burn in his chest. Healing factor aside, it was unlikely that he was immune to wound infections. He should have changed it last night or at the latest when he had gotten up that morning. But truth be told, he was scared. Scared it would hurt. Scared how it would look like.

Peter put his half-eaten sandwich aside and strode into the bathroom. It was time. To his surprise, the first-aid kit had been exchanged with a new one, still shrink-wrapped.

He groaned. "This is just great. I open this and May will give me a week's worth of not so subtle interrogations to figure out why I broke this open." He rubbed his face in frustration. May was still in the dark about the extend of his injuries. It had never been as hard as it had been the day before to keep it like that. Granted, usually, his injuries weren't as visible and as severe as they were this time. She'd still been at home when he got back from school and of course, the first thing she did was question him about the band-aid on his face. He tried to keep her away from it, but she just wouldn't let it go.

* * *

"Just let me look at it for a moment..."

"May, come on. It's nothing..."

She tried to hold onto his arm and turn him towards her.

"What happened?"

"Nothing..."

"Well, you don't put a band-aid on your face for nothing. Or did you join some Rapper cult without telling me?"

"What? No..."

"Come here!"

He was frozen to the spot while she slowly peeled the band-aid off his cheek, careful not to hurt him. She bit her lip while Peter studied her out of the corner of his eye. He had no idea what the cut would look like. He'd been too nervous to check.

"Oh, Peter..." She sighed deeply, caressing his other cheek. "What the hell did you do?" She frowned and got close to look at the cut. "Did someone tape this for you?"

He looked away from her. "No. No... I taped it."

"You taped a cut on your own face?" She frowned, still holding firmly onto him. "When did you learn to do that?"

"We had this class. They... it's part of the... you know."

"No, I don't know. What class is this?"

"It's like... a voluntary thing, for students who... who want to get a Learner's Permit. You know. Public safety kinda thing."

Her expression softened. "You want to get a Learner's Permit?"

Peter shook his head and shrugged. "No, just.. you know, I thought. Just in case."

"Honey, we don't have a car."

"I know, I know..."

She sighed again. "So, are you gonna tell me how you cut your face or do I need to resort to other less pleasant methods than just asking you?"

He shrugged her hands off his face and stepped away from her, turning his back in the process.

"Peter... what's going on?"

"Nothing! I just..." He swallowed hard and closed his eyes in frustration. "It's just embarrassing."

"Was that supposed to discourage my curiosity?"

He knew she was trying to brighten the mood and it didn't help with his nerves.

He groaned. "I just... I was... looking at something on my phone and I didn't see where I was going... and I walked into something. It's not a big deal."

He wasn't in the habit of openly lying to her and he did feel horrible about it. But this was the only way. He knew that there was no other option at this time.

"You walked into... something? Face first?"

"I know, it's stupid. I just wasn't-"

"Peter, look at me."

He sighed and turned around to face her. She had narrowed her eyes at him.

"You'd tell me if someone had done this to you right? Someone at school?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Of course. It's not like that..." He couldn't quite meet her eyes. That was a mistake and he knew it. Mr. Stark had been right. He was a liar. And he was horrible at it.

"Alright. If that's what happened..."

"Yes, that's what happened." She knew. She _must_ have known that he was lying. He looked up at her and met her eyes at last. "It's really not a big deal. I'll be fine."

He did try to mean that last part at least.

* * *

Of course, it really was quite a big deal and he wasn't really fine, but May had let it go. For now. So, there was no point in worrying about that, but he couldn't afford to give her any more clues to pick apart. He avoided his own face in the mirror as he closed the cabinet door. His stash didn't include any of the bandages he'd need for this, but he could run down to the pharmacy. He still had a bit of pocket money left and really how much could a first-aid kit cost? He might have to skip out on a couple of the after-school snacks. But if it meant that he could avoid tipping off May even further it would be worth it. She was like a dog with a bone. Once she got a whiff that something was up, there was no getting her to drop it. He would have to do what he could so he didn't give her any more ammunition.

Going down to the drugstore was really the only sensible choice. He picked up some wound pads, some antibiotic ointment, and bandages. When he was about to pay, his senses tingled and just by reflex he almost ran out of the store. No! He stopped himself and only looked up out of the glass windows towards the street for a second before bringing his focus back down to his medical supplies.

_He was still paying for the last time he jumped without looking. He had to keep his damn feet still._

After he handed over the money, Peter rushed out of the store, but he just couldn't help himself. He scanned the street. On the opposite side of the road was a young woman crying, but there were people there, talking to her.

_See. She's fine. _

Peter looked down to his feet and walked back towards the apartment. Back in his room, he threw the medical supplies on top of his school bag before he let himself fall onto his bed. He made a face as his abdomen ached and reached for his half-eaten sandwich. He took a bite, eyes locked on the ceiling of the room. Usually, that would help. Usually, it was only when he closed his eyes that images of his patrol or the bullies or on the worst days Ben would pop up in his mind. Usually. Not so much now. Again and again, his thoughts strayed to the fight in Manhattan. Memories flashed in and out in front of him, memories from a night that were etched into his brain. Or the girl would pop up. The girl who had been crying on the other side of the road The girl who he hadn't helped.

Then with a sudden force, his head turned almost on instinct as he heard a key slide into the lock of the front door. He jumped up off the bed and cursed as he felt that deep ache in his side once more.

"Peter, honey, are you home?"

_May... What? What time was it?_

He darted towards his medical supplies, flung them onto his bed and used his sheet to cover them up. Idiot that he was he had dragged his feet on dealing with his wound and now May was home. Shit.

"Peter?"

He turned towards her, as she knocked and opened the door.

"Yeah, May, Hi! I didn't... didn't realize it's this late."

"It's not. I changed shifts with Gina and came home early, hoping you'd be home so we can spend some time together. I've hardly seen you all week!"

She stepped closer to him, her face lined with obvious worry. She turned his injured cheek towards herself, one hand under his chin.

"It doesn't look as bad as I remembered..." She frowned for a moment but then her face relaxed and her hand cupped his face. "How about some pasta? I'll need your expert skills at the chopping board." She ruffled his hair. "You okay, honey?"

"Yeah... I'm..." He smiled at her. "Pasta would be great."

Peter followed her into the kitchen. It really wasn't a complicated recipe, he could have probably even managed to prepare everything on his own. With the size of their kitchen that would have been more practical. They kept bumping into each other, having to move the other one out of the way to reach a bowl or open a drawer. But it was May. It was comfort being so close to the one person he knew loved him more than anyone. It picked up his spirits, the genuine care she radiated, a soft hand on his shoulder, a lame joke about his tomato cutting technique.

They sat down at the table and he told her about school. Not the nasty parts, that made his head hurt. He really didn't want to steal this moment of coziness from himself. He told her about the Academic Decathlon, the advanced science courses. They were starting to delve into genetics. They had already covered the basic theory, Mendel's laws, the double helix structure of DNA. He told her about the experiments they were scheduled to perform on DNA samples in a few weeks at the end of the semester. He bit his tongue when he thought about that plan he had to compare his own DNA to the test subjects they were going to work on in class. He was dying to find out if the bite had messed with his DNA in any obvious form.

Peter wasn't sure how much of the science talk May actually got. He tried to explain about antiparallel DNA strands and cell division, but she seemed happy to just listen and he was glad to just keep talking. He was helping to dry the dishes while simultaneously scrolling through his Netflix list and offered May different movie choices for the evening's entertainment.

"Peter!" May finally managed to interrupt his rambling about why the fact that The Shawshank Redemption was such an important piece of cinematic history should trump the minor annoyance that it was technically rated R even though an R rating really only meant that under 17-year-olds should watch it in the company of an adult and her being there would totally meet those conditions.

"Peter, the door!" May indicated the foam of the dishwater dripping off her hands. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure." He hadn't even heard anyone knock. He walked over and opened the door. His insides froze so fast his jaw didn't even have a chance to fall open as he was looking straight at Tony Stark.

Maybe shutting the door right in his face wasn't the most charming way to go about it, but it was really all he could do to keep himself from having a panic attack right there in the doorway. His mind had just stopped working and was trapped somewhere between fight and flight. He heard Stark clear his throat on the other side of the door and there was another knock.

_Fuck. . . . . . _

He glanced back towards his room. He had to run. Fast. Just get out of the apartment, then... then he would... He would just live in the shadows. Nobody would ever get to him. Just him and the law and...

"Peter?" He heard May call his name from the kitchen. His pulse quickened even more, his heart raced at a dangerous inhuman speed. He couldn't leave May. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of her finding his room empty with him just gone. She only had him and he only had her. Losing him would break her. There really was only one choice he could live with in this situation. She was going to find out. A shaky breath left his throat. This was bound to happen someday, he knew that. He just wasn't prepared for that day to be today. He wished he had prepared better for this. Another knock, this one clearly less patient than the one before.

"Peter!"

He willed his voice to sound at least somewhat normal but it came out high pitched and shaky. "Yeah, on it."

He reached for the doorknob and opened the door wide. Stark had crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed.

"Don't they teach you kids basic manners these days?"

Peter was still holding onto the doorknob, clung to it for some form of support.

Stark's eyes widened, his eyebrows shot up, as he looked at Peter expectantly for another moment. Then he let his arms drop and mimicked Peter's usual fast-rolling vernacular.

"Good evening, Mr. Stark. How nice of you to drop by! So sorry, I had to leave in a flash the other day. Totally forgot to say bye or at least leave a thank-you note. Oopsie."

Stark narrowed his eyes on him again and all Peter could do was avoid his glare and stare at the carpet in the hallway behind Stark.

"Hey, kid!"

Peter's eyes shot back up to him at Stark's sharp tone of voice.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he whispered almost inaudibly. "Please. Please, don't-"

"This is where you politely ask me to come inside." Stark's eyes still rested on him.

Peter could barely hear him over the loud thump of his own heart, that muffled everything around him. "Please, Sir. You don't understand-"

Stark rolled his eyes. "Fine." He wedged himself through the open door and by reflex Peter reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Don't! Please..."

Stark leaned closer to him, his voice low but powerful. "Running out on me was a mistake, kid. I told you, there would be consequences if you try to screw me over." In a much louder cheerful tone, he continued. "Now, why don't you introduce me to your lovely Aunt!"


	14. The Easy Way or the Hard Way - Chapter14

**Chapter 14 - The Easy Way or the Hard Way**

Strolling into a room like he owned the place was something Tony had mastered a long time ago. That, as well as charming Peter's unusually attractive aunt, was really the easy part of this whole trip to the Parker's. He could turn up the charm like no other. First, he introduced himself to May Parker, graciously ignoring the shocked expression she just hadn't been able to wipe off of her face ever since he had walked into the kitchen.

"I'm sure Peter has told you all about the internships that Stark industry is offering to students all over the country."

Dishwater was still dripping off her hands but at least that gave him an excuse to get around the shaking hands part of introductions that he so despised. Open-mouthed she turned to Peter and shook her head.

"No... no... I'm not sure..."

Tony turned to the boy, hands stuffed in his pockets. "What's that, Peter? Keeping things from your Aunt." He tilted his head in a mocking fashion, but the kid was quiet, mostly staring at his aunt.

"The September Foundation. A new project I've been working on with my CEO for the last few months. We're looking for the brightest and most extraordinary students this young generation has to offer." He turned to Peter and flashed his most charming smile at him. "I'm not sure if Peter learned about the program when Ms. Potts held her presentation at Midtown High a couple of weeks ago or if our national outreach program got to him first, but my team was very impressed with his application."

He could see the kid swallow hard, digesting the effortless lie Tony had just given to his aunt. If she had been looking at the boy she might have gotten suspicious. The kid really did have a face of glass. How he managed to fool his aunt all this time was a mystery to Tony. But May Parker was hanging on Tony's every word. After all, Tony knew how to captivate the attention of a room. Any room really.

"That's... wow..." She turned to her Nephew, at last, eyes wide in awe. "Peter, that is amazing."

The boy had the good sense to blush and stare at his feet. As soon as May turned around to look for a towel to dry off her hands the boy looked up at Tony, his face a giant question mark. Tony just arched his eyebrows and kept talking.

"We're in the final rounds of the application process for this year and I'm sure you understand that we are very selective with the candidates we do pick."

"Of course. Yes," she responded.

He turned to May, gesturing at the boy. "Can I have 5 minutes with him? Do you mind?"

"No, of course. Go ahead."

The kid's bedroom door had just shut behind him when the kid turned to face him.

"Mr. Stark, I'm sorry, I-"

"Oh, shut up. No, you're not."

The kid flinched away from him and dropped his glance to the floor once again.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You go from having a panic attack and being too fragile to walk on your own to climbing down 25 stories on the outside wall of a building?"

The kid was wringing his hands in front of himself, eye still focused on the floor.

"Seriously, do you have any amount of self-preservation left in there?" The frustration overcame Tony and he was pacing back and forth in front of the kid. "Did you actually think that I wouldn't find you? In all of Queens? That I wouldn't find your school or your name in the student registry?"

The kid was still staring down at his hands.

"Look at me, kid!" Tony stopped pacing and waited for the boy to collect himself enough to look up to him. "Do you think I made you sit through 14 stitches without anesthesia just so you can bash your head open on the pavement in front of my tower?"

The boy went to lower his eyes again, caught himself at it and he looked back up at Tony. He whispered a soft "No."

Tony shook his head in frustration, his eyes now fixed on the cut on the boy's cheek. It did look significantly better than it had two days ago. Maybe the kid's healing factor was more elevated than Tony had expected after all. "How are your stitches doing?"

Now the Spiderling did look away and actually took a further step back. Tony's eyebrows shot up, dread rising inside him again for the first time since he'd finally found the boy's home address.

"Talk to me, Pete. What happened?"

The boy shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing. It's fine."

"Don't bullshit me, kid. What's wrong with it?"

"I... I don't know. I haven't... I haven't really..." The boy bit his lip and shook his head again.

"Show me."

The kid's eyes widened and he wanted to protest, but Tony fixed him with a stare that made the boy step back even further. Slowly his hands wandered down to the hem of his sweatshirt and lifted one side of it up. Tony's face fell. He stepped closer and quickly realized that it was still the same bandage that he had applied 2 days ago.

"Jeezes, kid..." His eyes wandered over the blood that had seeped through the dressing and had now crusted over the most part of the bandage. He was at a loss for words, not a state he found himself all too often. He had applied multiple layers of dressing and bandages. All of them were now stuck together and clotted to the wound. Tony took a deep breath and reached for the boy's hand that was still holding the hem of his shirt and pulled it down. The sweater fell back over the blood clotted bandage. He quietly turned around. One hand rubbing his temples, he walked himself back to the other end of the room

_Alright. Fuck. He had to remind himself to breathe. Now was not the time to freak out._

"I... I couldn't, yesterday. And today... I... I got all the stuff, but then May came home early and-"

Tony held up his hand, signaling the boy to stop talking.

"I'm sorry, I just..." The boy let out a shaky breath. "What's... what's gonna happen now?"

Tony bit his lip and turned back around to face the kid. His pulse was way too high. Frustration. Maybe dread. He tried to get his temper under control. The voice in the back of his head telling him that he needed to check that wound for infections asap needed to shut up so he could concentrate.

"This is what is going to happen: You will pack a few of your things and then we'll drive upstate to the Comp-"

"Sir, please-"

"Na-ahah! This is where you zip it and listen!"

The kid gave a small nod, struggling to keep his head high and not to look away from Tony's stare.

"We will be driving upstate to the Compound for the weekend. We'll... we'll take care of that." He pointed at the kid's abdomen. "And then we'll figure out what to do with you."

Tony could see that the boy's nerves had picked up again. He wrung his hands and had his eyes cast back to the ground.

"What if... what if I were to... to refuse."

The boy shaking. He grabbed hold of the desk behind him in an effort to keep himself steady. The sleeves of the kid's sweatshirt were long enough that his web-shooters could be hidden underneath. Tony hadn't really had all that much time to take a closer look at those - one of the things that was definitely on the agenda for the weekend - but even with the oblivion his hot aunt seemed to have going when it came to the Spiderling, he doubted that the kid would be careless enough to wear them for dinner with her. So he tilted his head and lifted his own arm. A quick tuck at the sleeve exposed his watch.

"We can always go a few rounds if you'd want me to catch you. I doubt it'd be too difficult with your current health situation, but let's save us both the trouble."

The kid swallowed hard, eyes as round as saucers. Fine, Tony hadn't_ actually _managed to integrate his whole suit in one of the watches yet and even if he had, he sure as hell wouldn't have walked into a building block full of civilians armed to the teeth. But the kid didn't know that. He _could_ call the suit and the tower wasn't too far off. If the kid decided he wanted to be all bold right now, it'd definitely be a pain in the ass to catch him.

"Listen, kid, I'm not looking for this to turn into some kind of big confrontation. I do need you to come to the Compound with me though. We have things to discuss and we have things to figure out. I'd rather do this the easy way."

Tony could see the boy's emotions, at last, got the better of him. His hands shot up to his face to shield it from Tony. He did feel for the kid, but there was no way around this. They had to do some major damage control.

"Can I..." The boy cleared his throat. "Can I ask a question?"

Tony sighed, quickly checked his watch for the time. "Yes, but you better hurry. I asked your aunt for 5 minutes and those are almost up."

The boy looked up at him, eyes glistering with the wetness of wiped-away his tears. "I don't... I don't understand why you told Aunt May about the foundation... and the internship. Why... why didn't you tell her, that I'm... that I'm..." The boy shook his head slightly and closed his eyes to struggle through the words. "...that I'm Spider-Man?"

Tony shrugged and crossed his arms in front of himself. "Mostly because I think that's your job."

"And if I come with you, you wouldn't tell my Aunt about... you know... about me... about what happened?"

"For now."

He saw the kid's hand shoot up and run nervously over his face. "So, if I did something to piss you off..."

Tony suppressed a chuckle. "I mean if you pissing me off would be the yardstick I'd use here, I should be out there right now, spilling some beans."

The boy looked up at him, still frowning. "Why aren't you? I don't... I don't understand."

Tony sighed and shrugged again. "Well, I would hate to go back on my word."

"But you said, you don't make deals with... with teenagers, I thought..."

"Listen, kid. In all honesty, I think that your aunt has a right to hear all of this coming from you. You want to be all grown up and chase bad guys then you also have to be mature enough not to lie to the people who love you! She deserves better from you."

He watched the boy's face turn red as he retreated even further away from Tony, now heavily leaning onto his desk. Of course, all that was a blatant lie. He wouldn't hesitate to go back on his word to the kid if he had to, not just because that promise was made under false pretenses. Sure, he'd prefer to keep his word even under the circumstances it was given, but what he actually really needed was for the boy to trust him. Plus, the kid himself should definitely be the one to come clean to his aunt not just for her sake but mostly for his own. Secrets like that were a burden to carry and there wasn't much for Tony to gain here by exposing the boy. Even if the Spiderling were to come clean, he doubted that his aunt - however hot - had the capabilities to keep the NYPD off the boy's back. But it would certainly take a huge amount of responsibility away from Tony, which wouldn't be the worst thing.

"I'm generally not wild about the idea of handing you over to the authorities, mostly because I've had to deal with a few of them over the last years and I don't want you falling into one of the weird one's hands being dangled over my head at some point in the future. I'm not all that eager to be carrying the responsibility for some super-human teenager around with me all day, every day either. But I think you do want to use your powers for something good and if that's the case, I'd be willing to help you out."

"Help me out how?"

Tony shrugged. "One of those things we'd have to figure out."

The kid nodded slowly to himself. The wheels obviously started turning in his head.

"Mr. Stark, you really don't need to-"

"Oh, I think I do."

"I know, I've made some... I made some mistakes. I shouldn't have come to Manhattan. I should have stayed in my neighborhood and..."

"Okay, stop."

"...I could just go back and look after things here..."

"Nope."

"...and you would never _never_ hear from me again."

"Kid, stop! No. That is not an option!"

Peter took a step towards him. "Please, Sir-"

Tony uncrossed his arms, a wave of his hand signaled the kid to stop talking. "Peter, there is no version of this where I let a 14-year-old kid go crime-fighting without anyone keeping out an eye for you! You refuse to tell your aunt about what you've been up to and I agreed to keep your secret. For now, that's where we're at. I'll give you a shot to do this right. Tell her and we'll take it from there, but this is not something you can do _alone_."

"Why not?" The Spiderling ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He stepped away from Tony, back to his desk. "You do it!"

Tony's eyebrows shot up and the kid's eyes widened, visibly surprised by his own outburst. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Is that what you think?" Tony shook his head in confusion. "That I don't have help? That I'm managing all the Avengers crap on my own?" He shook his head again, with a laugh. "Kid, I don't. I've always had help. I would have been dead three times over if I'd been on my own out there."

"Oh." The boy's eyes were fixed on him. He blinked, not really seeing him. "I didn't..." He frowned. "So, if I come with you, you'd... you'd help me fight crime?"

"If you come with me now without making a fuss, then I'd go ahead and figure out if I can trust you. I'd figure out if you can handle all of this. The whole superhero business is not just about enhanced abilities and strength, there's a lot of bullshit you'd have to deal with and if I figure out that you can't handle all of this, I'm not just gonna stand by."

"So, if I were to screw up-"

"No, this is not about you screwing up, kid. However, if you try to screw me over, if you think you can get some shit past me and I won't know..."

"...then you'll tell my aunt."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "No. Then I'll pick you up and deliver you to the NYPD's headquarter myself."

He waited for the Spiderling to nod again in resignation.

"Okay." The boy swallowed hard. "What if I tell May... if I tell May right now? If... if she knew, then someone would look out for me, right? And you wouldn't have to... to deal with all this."

Tony crossed his arms again. "I guess. Sure, that would be an option. I mean, there would still be a couple of things to hash out. But yeah, okay. If that's what you want to do. Fine."

The Spiderling nodded slowly, eyes still on his feet. "Then... okay... I guess... I guess I'll tell May." He looked up at Tony, face pale, hands nervously tugged his sweater further down. "I mean, I was gonna tell her anyway... at some point... just... just the timing was never... well and she is just so worried and we've already-"

"No need for excuses, kid. Let's just get on with it."

Tony turned and reached for the door.

"Wait. Wait..." Peter held out his hands to stop him.

"Another question?"

"No. I just. I need a minute."

Tony did let go of the door handle. He put his hands in his pockets and studied the boy for another moment.

"I just.." The boy blew out a breath. "Okay."

Peter walked past him and reached for the handle. He didn't open it though. He just stared at his hand, his breathing shallow and fast. Tony sighed to himself. He couldn't blame the boy for struggling. The super-hero business came with a lot of tough choices and he'd have to get used to those, no question about it. Tony laid his hand on top of the boy's, slowly pressed down the handle and pushed the door wide open.

"After you, kid."

Peter gave a short nod and took off towards the living room. His walk looked like he was on his way to the gallows. The boy's aunt was waiting, pacing back and forth and headed straight for Peter when she saw him reappear from his room. She quietly whispered something to him, but the kid just shook his head and pointed to the couch, indicating for her to sit. She looked up with a frown. Her gaze shifted to Tony, but he had made sure that his face was sporting his most impassive Stark mask. He kept to the back of the room, leaning against the wall. He wasn't part of this. This conversation was between the kid and his aunt. He was only there to supervise that the kid would stick to his end of the deal and actually tell her. If anything, Tony was the incredibly responsible adult here. The one, who actually caught the kid doing things kids weren't supposed to do. Like getting stabbed. She should have realized that the boy had been sneaking out _months_ ago. Hell, how she didn't realize that the kid was a walking medical emergency was...

Tony shook his head slightly in an attempt to stop his thoughts from going off the deep end and refocused on the scene in front of him. He was here to observe. This wouldn't be his problem any longer. Peter was still stood, facing his Aunt and shifted from one foot to the other.

"May, there's something I..." He cleared his throat, not meeting her eyes. "I've been meaning to... to tell you, but... listen..." He cleared his throat again. His hand shifted from holding onto the hem of his sweatshirt, went to scratch the back of his neck and returned to his front where it wrung his other hand. "It's... erm... The thing is..."

"Peter, you're freaking me out here." She turned around again and looked at Tony, then back to her nephew. "What the hell's going on?"

"The things is... I... I should have told you about this earlier, but..." He swallowed hard. "but I just thought that... that I had more time and..." He looked up at her and Tony could see his face fall. He didn't blink, just stared at her before he straightened his back. "The... the final round for the... internship is a... is a lab test and it's this weekend and I didn't realize, but now you took time off work and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I... I have to go with Mr. Stark because it starts now. The... the test starts tonight. And I'm so sorry. But I... I have to go with Mr. Stark."

The kid looked up at Tony, but Tony just stood there, frozen. His chin might have dropped but he wouldn't know because he couldn't actually feel his face._ Damn it. _The boy had already made the right choice in agreeing to tell his aunt. Tony had thought he had gotten away with this, that he'd done the right thing without actually having to go back on his word. The kid's gaze shifted down to his aunt again and Tony dimly realized that she was speaking.

"Oh, that's... wow, that really is short notice. I don't understand why you never... you never said anything and I..." She turned around to face Tony who had gathered the little self-control he had left to put his Stark-PR-mask into place. "Where exactly is this going to be. I mean, a little bit of time to think about this would have been really great."

Tony was about to say something when the kid spoke up again and turned both their eyes back over to him.

"It's really my fault, May. I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't want to make a big deal out of this and you know it's supposed to be short notice and all to make it fair for everyone and I just... I just didn't realize it was this short notice and-"

"So, where exactly are you going?"

"The... erm... There's a research facility upstate and that's where the... the test is. I'll be back on Sunday." The Spiderling looked up at him with a lot more determination than Tony had thought him capable of. "Right, Mr. Stark? I'll be back home on Sunday."

Tony flashed a smile at the kid's aunt, who had turned to him following Peter's gaze. "Yes. I'll have him back home on Sunday."

* * *

_(author's note: thank you guys so much for the lovely comments, the favorites and the subscription. Hope you keep enjoying the story!"  
_


	15. The Fine Line Between Fortitude & Fear15

**The Fine Line Between Fortitude and Fear - Chapter** 15

Peter's eyes were fixed on the tinted windows of Stark's Bentley. Lights and buildings were flying by outside but he couldn't concentrate on that. He was too busy trying to keep his emotions in check, his breathing leveled and is mind from going into overdrive. He'd been a complete mess for the past few days. He should he have never ever set foot into Manhattan in the first place. He should have cherished his simple neighborhood problems, should have been happy that he had helped crime simmer down in Queens. But he just couldn't resist, could he... He had to tempt fate and now he was reaping the consequences. Stark was sitting next to him, typing away on his tablet. Peter had lost all sense of time. Had they been driving for 15 minutes? or 20? 30? He kept wringing his hands, forced himself to keep them low on his lap and tried to smother the urge to rub his wrists. The first thing Stark had done when they had gotten into the car was to make him hand over his web-shooters.

After his pathetic performance when instead of telling May about his secret identity he had told her that he would have to leave for an internship lab test with Stark, he had run off to pack. The very first things he had done when he was back in his room was to put on the web-shooters. Stuffing the medical supplies and the clothes Stark had given him at the Tower into his backpack had been a close second. He had been fast enough to get those things out of the way before May had come to see him in his room.

"Peter, what the hell is going on?" She stood close behind him, her voice low.

He grabbed a couple of shirts and socks from his wardrobe, careful to hide his face from her. "I'm sorry, May. I don't know why I didn't tell you, I guess I just didn't want to jinx it, I—"

"Peter, look at me." She grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn around to face her. "What are you not telling me? Why have I never heard of this internship program."

He met her eyes. His face felt hot and he could only hope that she wouldn't recognize it as the guilt painted all over his face and would just brush it off as nerves. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. I was just... I never thought I'd even get this far. I'm only a Sophomore..." With two steps he was at his desk where he opened the top drawer and pulled out the leaflet for the internship. They had been lying around all over the labs ever since Pepper Potts had visited Midtown High. He'd never even considered to apply, not after what had happened to him at Oscorp, but MJ had caught him staring at the flyers and teased him endlessly. He had taken one, simply out of spite. He handed it to May and turned back to his closet.

"I don't... I don't understand... Why did he want to talk to you alone? What is going on?"

"The internship is a big deal, May. I... I..." _Think, Peter, think!_ "I mentioned the two weeks I was at Oscorp in my application and... and there might be an issue with the NDA I signed there."

She placed her hand back on his shoulder and turned him towards her again. "Are you in trouble? Tell me quick!"

"No, I don't think so. He... he said... he said, he would look into it and that we'd figure something out."

Fine, it was a terrible excuse. May let go of him. With a shake of her head, she unfolded the flyer and read through the information. Peter quickly stuffed another shirt in his bag. The faster he got out of there the higher the chances he would get away without tripping over his semi-true story. The benefit of being a model teenager, who was never getting into trouble and who was never in the habit of lying to her - up until the incident – was that he had created sufficient padding for himself from her suspicions. May had never had a reason to doubt that he was telling the truth before. The two of them had always been close, even more so after Ben had died. She trusted him and he was outright exploiting that fact. He did feel bad. He hated breaking her trust like that, but at the end of the day, he had to protect her. To shield her from all the worry and the stress and... it just had to be this way. He couldn't tell her. He just couldn't.

"This says there's a form that has to be filled out by a parent or guardian."

"Right." He cleared his throat to give himself a second to think. "That... that's the other thing. I... They were missing some of the paperwork and I guess they need to make sure that everything's... everything's okay with you and because I didn't tell you and they... he wanted to know why I didn't tell you and it's just stupid, I just didn't want to make such a big deal out of it and I thought I'd have enough time to tell you if things got serious, but... but it just happened so quickly and-"

She reached out for him, cupped his face with one hand, eyes shortly lingering on the cut as she stroked his cheek.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." He nodded, reached for her hand and squeezed it. He gave her the best reassuring smile he could manage. "It's a once in a lifetime kind of opportunity."

He had grabbed his backpack and headed for the living room before she could reach out to hug him. There was no way that his abdomen would have been able to take May holding him close.

Peter was pulled out of his thoughts and flinched in surprise when Stark shoved the tablet into his hands.

"Does that read like a standard student permission slip?"

Peter looked down at the tablet and frowned. "Did you just write this?"

"I copy-and-pasted some stuff off the internet." He gaped at Stark, who just shrugged. "Your aunt asked for the permission slip she would need to sign. Can hardly send her the one we have on file."

"Oh, I... I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"The official internship program doesn't really include any _'overnight retreats'_ for _'admission tests'_," Stark interrupted, air-quoting the additions he had made to the document "and since you decided to keep lying to your aunt, this is where we're at."

Peter looked down, his face once again hot but otherwise ignoring the dig at May, and read through the document. It was just a few paragraphs about insurance and instructions on the lab work. He shrugged and handed it back. "Yeah, that looks alright to me, but I'm no legal expert."

"Believe me, the last thing I want to do is run your case past my legal experts." Stark looked away from him, his focus on the device, so Peter leaned back in his seat and stared at the window again. "Alright, that's that." He put the tablet away and turned to Peter. "Are you gonna tell me what happened back there or is it one of those things that I get to worm out of you?"

Peter inhaled deeply and fought the urge to roll his eyes at Stark. Hadn't what had happened 'back there' been obvious enough? "I just couldn't do it."

"Well, thank you, Captain Obvious. Worming it out of you it is then..."

Peter did sigh at that, rubbing a couple of fingers over his forehead. "You saw what happened! She was freaking out before I had even started to tell her anything."

"Oh, please. You put any teenager in front of their parent sporting the guilty look that you had going on and they would freak out. Hell, if you'd look at me that way, I'd freak out too."

"She's not my parent." Heat rose from neck back into his face. Annoyance? Or maybe shame. He kept his face turned away from the man next to him, eyes directed out into the night but not really focused on anything.

Stark stayed quiet for a moment. "She's looking after you, responsible for you. She obviously worries about you. That's basically the same thing."

"It's not." He spat the words back. "You only get one set of parents and mine are dead, so no. She's not my parent." He swallowed hard, surprised by his outburst. Spoken out loud his words seemed a lot harsher than they had sounded in his head. But Stark stayed quiet and Peter could feel his eyes resting on him. His face was growing hotter and a new wave of guilt swept over him, forcing his glance back down to his hands that still rested in his lap.

"I didn't mean it like that. May is... May is all the family I have and I love her, but she's not my_ parent_. She's my legal guardian. There's a reason why they have a special word for that." He kept his head bowed, his gaze down into his lap. His voice was fast and low, shaking. Anger constricted his throat. Why was he even angry. This was so stupid. He loved May and he was fine with how things were. Why would Stark even bring up May? He had given Peter the choice to not tell her and to go to the Compound instead. So that's what they were doing, so that was that. A hot ball of rage flamed up in his stomach. Why did this even bother him that much? He shouldn't get triggered by a little comment like— whatever. It didn't matter. This was just nobody else's business. Nobody except for him and May got to define what they were to each other and why should he have to defend himself to Stark on this of all the things he'd messed up with? This was none of _his_ business. "You don't just replace someone's parents. It's just not the same thing, no matter how close you get, it's different. It's not the same thing, okay?! You don't understand what it means to—"

Slamming his mouth shut, Peter stopped himself. Stark was still quietly sitting next to him. Could the Earth just open up and swallow him already? He risked a short glance over to the man before he turned back to the window. His face burned up even hotter than before, but Stark was only frowning at him. He wasn't even angry and somehow that made it even worse.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to... to imply, that—"

"That's enough." Stark's voice was surprisingly cheerful. "You're annoyed and angry. I get it. It'd be annoyed and angry too if I'd just chickened out of telling the one person I consider to be family about the reckless kamikaze operation I've been running for the past six months."

Peter shot a quick glance over to him and Stark was still only wearing a slight frown on his face. "She'd never allow it." He blurted out quietly, starring back down at his hands. "She'd be too scared for me. She wouldn't understand."

"No, I suppose she wouldn't."

He turned to Stark, his voice way too desperate to keep any of his remaining dignity. "I don't want to be lying to her. I never asked for any of this."

Stark met his eyes, holding his stare. "Are you trying to convince _me_ with that or yourself?"

Peter leaned back again, unable to suppress a sigh. This whole conversation was just ridiculously frustrating.

"It's fine, kid. I already know that you're out of your depth here, otherwise, you wouldn't have ended up with a stab wound on _my balcony_. That was a bitch to clean up by the way."

Peter's eyes shot over to Stark. He hadn't even considered the fact that Stark would have to clean up after him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't—"

Stark signaled him to stop. "Alright, let me get this straight. You didn't tell her the truth after all, because you were scared that she wouldn't let you continue with all of this." Stark gestured lightly in Peter's general direction. "So... to _avoid_ having to lie to her about continuing your Spiderling-ing _in case _your aunt tells you to stop if you were to tell her about it, you just decided to continue to lie to her about it in the first place, so she _can't _ask you to stop... because if she can't ask you to stop, you then wouldn't have to _lie _to her about you still Spiderling-ing anyways."

Peter frowned and opened his mouth to respond, only to shut it again.

"Yeah, alright. I see why you'd be annoyed with yourself." Stark's gaze shifted to the window. "We're here. Just follow me. We'll go to my workshop to look at your stitches."

Peter stared ahead, eyes fixed on the separation screen that was isolating them from the driver. He mulled Stark's words over in his head. He _had_ lied to May. Properly lied. At some point his whole thing about not telling her the whole truth had changed to him outright bold-faced lying to her about the internship and Stark, only so he wouldn't have to lie to her if she were to forbid him to keep up the crime-fighting. He was such an idiot. This wasn't just a white lie anymore. He wasn't just bending the truth, omitting some of the facts. Somewhere along the way, he had gotten so comfortable with lying to her, that he had ended up in this mess. Peter had had a choice who to trust and he had picked Stark over May. He swallowed hard, a shiver ran down his spine. She would never forgive him for this. He just... he just ruined every chance of telling her down the line. If she found out... After everything, she had done for him—

"Hey, kid! You coming?" Peter jerked, his mind snapping back to the present. Stark had already gotten out of the car and only stuck his head back in the car through the open door. Stark frowned. "You look a little pale, are you still in pain?"

Peter sprang into action and opened the door on his right side. "I'm fine."

They were parked in front of a huge complex. There were no other buildings to be seen close by but the light that radiated from what Peter assumed must be the Avengers Compound illuminated a large area around them. The_ Avengers _Compound. He swallowed hard. There was no point in worrying about his lies to May. For all he knew, he could piss off Stark or one of the Superheros in that building and would find himself in some kind of special confinement indefinitely. He glanced over at Stark who was strolling towards the entrance.

"Get your bag, let's go!"

The driver had opened the trunk and held out Peter's backpack. Reluctantly he took it and slowly swung it over his right shoulder before he followed Stark into the building. There was no way around it. He had picked this path and he would have to deal with whatever Stark would throw at him. If push came to shove he might have to fight his way out of there to freedom. After all, he had escaped them before.

He was slow to follow, mostly because he made a point to try and remember as much as he could about the doors in the lobby and how many corridors forked off in different directions. That whole complex was a freaking maze.

"Are you trying to figure out an escape route?"

Peter flinched, heat rose back to his cheeks. Why did it always have to do that? "No. No. Just... looking around." But Stark only shot him a disbelieving look in response, so he cleared his throat. "It seems a little empty."

"Well, it's Friday night. We do try to let our staff have some form of a normal social life." He threw a frown in Peter's direction. "I'd have thought you'd appreciate having less of an audience."

"I do! I do..." Peter tightened the grip on his backpack and hastened his step to get closer to Stark, careful to lower his voice. "Are the... the others... are they waiting for us?"

Stark came to a sudden halt. Peter just about managed to stop himself from running into him. Squinting at him over his shoulder, Stark looked him up and down.

"What are you talking about?"

Peter only blinked. What had he just said? How could Stark have misunderstood? "The others... the other Avengers?"

Stark turned all the way to face him. Simultaneously taking a step back, he studied Peter from a greater distance. "Wait, you think I brought you here for a team debrief?"

Now it was Peter's turn to frown. "Well, yeah. I mean, you brought me to the_ Avengers_ Compound. Why else would you bring me here?"

Stark crossed his arms, a sly smirk appearing on his lips. "You thought I'm bringing you in to be questioned by the Avengers and you came without being dragged here kicking and screaming?" Stark gave a short laugh and a shake of the head. "Quite the cojones on you, kid." Peter blushed at that, sheepishly scratching his head. "Come on, the workshop is this way." Doors to their left opened just when they arrived at the entrance. "They're out of the country. And I have a hoard of construction workers redoing my floors at the Tower." He laughed again. "No wonder that you were dragging your feet." He shook his head again. "When I said, we had to figure things out, I meant you and me. I told you, I'd keep your secret."

"For now..." Peter added before he could stop himself. He shot a nervous glance over to Stark,

"For now."

* * *

Tony had made the kid lay down on a gurney he'd organized from the med bay. The boy had worked off his sweater and shirt and only had a sheet wrapped around the upper part of his body to keep him warm and a large towel keeping his pants from being soaked. The bandage still covered the kid's abdomen, though Tony had cut them in the back so he could pull off layer by layer. He had started to soak it with wet towels to loosen the clotted dressings. The kid had been quiet and somber during the whole process and Tony wasn't really inclined to chat either. He had no idea what he was going to find under that bandage. This could potentially be very bad and Tony was prepared to go as slow as was necessary not to rip anything around the wound.

The boy wasn't running a fever but his careful and stiff movements still spoke volumes. He was in pain and all Tony could do was hope that the pain was simply a symptom of the healing in progress instead of on indication that the wound was festering. An infection would not just make this whole "figuring stuff out" thing a lot more complicated to keep under wraps, it would also double the shame he felt that he took his eyes off the wounded Spiderling in the Tower when he had already shown that he was a flight risk. He had walked over to his workstation and checked his phone for messages. FRIDAY knew to inform him of the important ones, right now that would be any word coming in from Pepper or Rogers. He was still trying to clear messages from the last couple of days though, some of them including appendixes and follow-ups to the meeting from the day before. That meeting was one of the more pressing points he had to discuss with the kid.

He figured that he might get two painful points off the agenda at once. So when he walked back over to the kid and started pulling off the wet towels he had wrapped around him, Tony decided to bring him up to speed.

"You may or may not be aware of this but I had the pleasure to spend all day in a meeting with a bunch of officials from the state and the city yesterday." He dropped the wet towels in a bucket he had placed next to the gurney to soak them again. "And some national security advisors. They were all very interested and very invested in what exactly had been going on with that terror attack on Wednesday." Tony could see the boy's eyes widen even more. He carefully peeled away the top layer of the bandages. "Does the name Chief Daniel Clarke ring any bells with you?"

"N-no..."

"Well, that's the name of the Chief of the Department for the NYPD and he's quite a fan."

Peter frowned. "Oh, he is?"

Tony lightly tugged on the next bandage but it was still clotted to the underlying layers, so he bent down to retrieve a wet towel out of the bucket and placed it back on the mangled wound dressing.

"Well, not of mine. And not technically of yours either. He is a great fan of the idea of the Avengers rounding you up and handing you over to the authorities though."

A deep-red flush sprung up into the boy's face and he flinched away from Tony, who had to grab him by the upper arm to keep him on the gurney. The wet towels flew off spraying both of them in water.

"Wh-What?"

"Get back on the stretcher, kid!"

The boy blinked, frozen with half of his body hanging in midair before he carefully scooched back over onto the gurney. Tony picked the towels off the floor and threw them out of the way, scowling at the mess. Maybe he had overestimated the kid's nonchalance when it came to the Avengers, after the boy's admission that he had thought they'd be waiting for him at the Compound. Maybe he hadn't been ballsy and strong after all but simply too paralyzed in the face of certain doom to fight it.

"Are you good to stay put or do I have to prepare myself for more of the skipping bunny routine?"

"I'm sorry." He only mumbled the words and to Tony's surprise, the constant apologies annoyed him a lot more than the kid's rebelling spirits.

"Just... try to keep it together a bit. I already told you, I'm trying to figure this out for you."

"Yes... thank you. I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"_Oh_ my god. Stop apologizing. I've heard the word 'sorry' come out of your mouth so many times in the last few days, it has really lost all meaning at this point."

The kid swallowed what Tony was sure had been another apology just in time and at last, settled back properly onto the stretcher, head leaned back down, eyes carefully avoiding Tony's eye line. Tony picked up another wet towel from the bucket and put it in place over the dressing.

"Anyways... The dude made quite the presentation yesterday on how much you've been interfering in their work over the past few months."

Again, the Spiderling swallowed hard, eyes back on Tony.

"But, I'm only trying to help. I don't understand. Why would they be mad?"

Tony sighed at the naivety of the boy. It became more and more apparent to him how young the kid really was. Even more so, how idealistic he had been thinking of all the crime-fighting he had been doing.

"They don't care that you are actually trying to help people, kid." Tony grabbed a dry towel and gestured to the boy to raise his back a bit so he could replace the dripping wet sheet he was now lying on. "At least an alarming number of them aren't. A lot of these people don't train and aspire for those kinds of jobs because they have a great desire to be outstanding public servants. They don't give a shit, about what's actually helping and what isn't." He let the dressing soak and walked over to one of his cabinets and picked out a handful of fresh towels he could soak. "They are in it for the power those positions hold, even in the lower ranks. The power they have over other people, over civilians. And the higher they rise in rank, the more power they get. Unfortunately, it's often the ones that are solely led by their desire for more and more power that end up in those leadership positions. And that's what we have here. An overachiever in the position of department head, not because of his great will to serve the community but because of the great ego boost it gives him to fuck with other people's lives."

He looked up at the kid whose face had adapted an unreadable expression, which in itself was confusing to Tony who so far had had no problem deciphering the boy's glass face.

"And here I thought I was the only one that could make your face radiate that much disapproval..."

Tony barely made out the words for the kid's voice was to low. Suddenly it struck him that the boy was actually trying to suppress a smile and well shit, this was the first time he'd actually seen Peter's face portrait something other than worry, fear or pain. He narrowed his eyes in mock accusation, hand dramatically placed on his hip. "I really hope you don't think this is funny..."

The corners of the boy's mouth twitched. "I wouldn't dare to, Sir."

Tony rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but flash a smile. "We had to deal with the idiot after the Invasion in 2012. His rank wasn't this high back then and he never sat in any of the meetings we had with the city, but he ranked high enough to be a major pain in the ass when it came to publicly shifting the blame to us. That he managed to rise this high in the department says quite a bit about the politics that are at play here and the undercurrents in law enforcement. Down the line, that can actually become dangerous not just for you be for every enhanced individual so we have to be careful in how to deal with it."

The shadow of the kid's smile had disappeared again and he was looking up at Tony, frowning. "So, you're saying law enforcement is... is a threat to everyone who's different? A danger to the Avengers?"

"I'm saying some of them are trying to pit us against each other." He picked the wet towels off the boy's abdomen to continue his work on the wound. "And I'm not having it."


	16. Late Night Sessions - Chapter 16

**Late Night Sessions **

His legs were moving even though he couldn't remember having started to walk. He didn't even know why he was walking or where he was going. It was dark. Pitch black. He… he should be able to see. What was happening? His senses were supposed to guide him, but he couldn't _see_. Still, he put one foot in front of the other. All this was just so wrong. He should stop walking and try to get his bearings, be more careful. Fear was starting to fill his heart, slowly creeping down his neck and spine, but his feet just kept on going forward, confident in the dark.

His hands moved up to his face but there was no mask. He felt only skin. That meant that there shouldn't be anything in his way, nothing to dull his senses, but still. All he saw was darkness.

His eyes moved up to the ceiling. He couldn't tell how much space there was above his head, which was odd and uncomfortable. Was there even a ceiling above him or was he looking at a dark sky? There were no stars but it might just be a cloudy night. Not recognizing what kind of environment he was in, felt alarming. Maybe he was in a maze of some sort.

His eyes still cast up above he squarely walked into something solid. It didn't hurt though and only slightly startled him. Then he felt someone's hands on his jacket, dragging him forward, slamming him into the ground. His mind went into overdrive, trying to focus on the person in front of him, trying to see and to react, but his body just didn't seem capable of catching up with the rapid course of events. As if he had lost all control of his body. He felt kicks hitting the side of his body, feet shuffling around him. He rolled over in pain. There were more kicks to his back, more and more all over his body. He wanted to fend off the attack, but his arms were too slow and he just couldn't get up. His head was ringing with pain and disorientation. He was dizzy, everything hurt and just as he looked up he could finally see something in the haze of darkness. The edge of a knife glistening as if hit by a single ray of light before it was buried in his abdomen.

Pain. There was so much pain. Like his mind registered every single cell being torn as the knife cut through his flesh. His mouth fell open, he felt his vocal cords vibrate but there was no sound. There should be sound. His throat ached and his ears should be ringing with his screams.

All of a sudden, he sat up. There was light all around him and he squeezed his eyes, blinking against the brightness. He was in bed in a room he didn't recognize. Panicked his hand went down to his abdomen, expecting a thick, red stream of blood but there was only fabric. He reached under his shirt and found more soft fabric. He blinked rapidly, still panting, and cast his eyes down. White bandages covered his stomach. He swallowed hard, cringing as his throat contracted and burned. The hand on his abdomen wandered up to his throat and softly rubbed at the skin as he closed his eyes again to shut out the bright light. He tried to control his breathing, keeping his eyes closed, he tried to focus on calming his nerves.

_You're alright. You're fine. It's alright._

He could feel a throbbing in his throat, the stab wound pulsing with his heartbeat.

_**"Mr. Parker, it seems that you experienced a nightmare."**_

Peter's eyes flew open and he glanced up to the ceiling. _That's right. The Compound. He was at the __Avengers __Compound._

_**"Mr. Stark wanted me to remind you that hot drinks and sandwiches are readily available for you in the communal kitchen down the corridor to the left of your room. If you require any further assistance, please do ask."**_

He cleared his throat. "Thank- Thank you." He closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. Hot chocolate might not be the worst idea. He laid back on the bed and rubbed a hand across his face. It had only been a dream. Which was fine. That was to be expected. He went through something traumatic, of course, that would come with nightmares. This wasn't his first traumatic _experience_. He knew the drill.

Still. His hands were wet, his heart was still pounding fast and strong in his chest. It didn't matter how far removed he physically was from where it had all happened, how irrational it had been. He was still scared. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, a tingling that went all the way down his limbs into his fingertips, down his legs and tickling the soles of his feet.

He knew his fear was overinflated by his sleep-deprived mind and his trauma. He wasn't in any imminent danger. His hand wandered down once again, lifted up his shirt and came to rest on top of the stab wound. Earlier that night, Stark had pulled off the blood clotted bandages one by one, exposing the wound lying beneath it. He had been paralyzed by dread and anxiety. He just really, _really_ hadn't wanted to look at it. Sure, he should be able to trust his healing factor, but he had never been wounded that severely before. He didn't know if he was safe from infection and the thought of seeing his skin all torn and shredded. In his fear, he had almost convinced himself that he was going to see red streaks growing from the wound towards his heart, signifiers of sepsis and blood poisoning.

* * *

His eyes had been moist with imminent tears. He had closed them, had bit down hard on the inside of his lip. He'd probably taste blood if he'd clench his jaw any tighter. Maybe that would actually be a welcome distraction from the fear of what Stark was uncovering. For a while the man had been talking about the meeting he had attended with the city council, mirroring the chitchat he had rattled off during the initial dressing of the wound. Peter had been quick to engage, desperate to pull his thoughts away from the cut in his abdomen, his rising pulse and the constant shiver in his limbs. But then he just couldn't keep talking. He was just scared that his voice wouldn't hold up if he'd speak and he couldn't really focus on Stark's story either. His mind was simply flooded with dread.

Peter could feel how the layers of dressing were pulled back. Less and less fabric was left to cover his wound. Layer after layer got soaked to loosen up and was then pulled off him. It didn't necessarily hurt. It sure didn't feel comfortable either though. It reminded him of the night at the Tower, feeling exposed and vulnerable. When Stark pulled off the last bit of bandage, Peter distinctly felt every inch of his skin being exposed to the cold air of the lab. He opened his eyes reluctantly, his gaze fixed on Stark's face as he inspected his wound. Stark reached for a dry towel, carefully cleaned off the excess moisture and clotted blood. Peter studied his face but the man kept his expression carefully neutral. The same however wasn't true for Stark's pulse. Peter had identified a fast beat that had increased over the course of the procedure. He assumed that just like Peter the man was nervous to find out how much Peter had screwed up this time and how difficult a spot he'd have to maneuver them out of. Peter had focused on the steadily elevating beat, using it to guide his own nerves. But with the last layer of dressing gone, the expected spike in the man's heart rate had failed to register with him. He took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his own pulse. Maybe he really wasn't dying after all. Maybe—

"I'm going to use some antiseptic solution on this now. I'm not sure, how sensitive your skin is going to be, but the majority of the scab has softened and peeled away with the bandages, so it's most likely going to burn just as much as it did before." Stark had reached for the antiseptic solution and a clean piece of gauze, his eyes now on Peter's face. "Same rules apply as last time. This will hurt. You have nothing to win here by trying to pretend like it doesn't."

Peter blinked away the moisture in his eyes and tightened his grip on the edge of the gurney. He gave a short nod in acknowledgment, then dropped his head back down and fixed his eyes on a spot at the ceiling. He gasped as the antiseptic solution burned his flesh and did as he was told, not even trying to suppress the scream that came rushing out of his throat. His arms were shaking from the vise-like grip he had on the edge of the gurney, desperately trying to hold himself in place. He didn't want to jump off the gurney again. He wanted to be stronger than that. Stark's hand was on his lower arm, squeezing it tightly. Peter looked over at him but the man's eyes were still fixed on his wound. He swallowed deeply and closed his eyes for another couple of heartbeats. When he opened them again he followed Stark's gaze down to his own abdomen. The man was dabbing at it with a fresh piece of wound dressing. He let go of Peter's arm and lifted the piece of fabric for Peter to see.

"It's not too bad, kid." His hand hovered over it, indicating small tears in his skin where droplets of blood and lymph were quickly forming again. "As the wound clotted to the dressing and you kept moving, it continuously opened up again, that's where all these smaller chaps are from."

Peter nodded. Yeah, maybe he shouldn't have jumped over that school fence. That had hurt. Best to keep this particular moronic move to himself.

"The redness around it just means that it's agitated, which isn't much of a surprise judging by the way you've treated it so far." Peter's face was hot. He lifted his eyes up at Stark he found the man looking right at him. "You got lucky, kid. You got very lucky that there's no infection, no serious complication. You can't allow yourself to take risks like that in the future."

Peter cast his eyes back down to the wound and nodded.

"You do heal fast. That cut on your face will be gone by the end of the weekend. But this here," Stark pointed at the stab wound, "you'll have to take care of that every day, probably for another week, redress it, or it will tear open again and again."

Peter nodded again and whispered a soft "Okay."

Stark looked up at him. "Do you know how to do that?"

"Just... just take off the bandage and... and put new gauze on it?"

Stark arched his brows and proceeded in talking Peter through what to do step by step.

"If you change it frequently and don't over-exhaust it, the scab won't break open like this. That means the dressing won't stick to the wound and disinfecting it won't hurt as much."

Peter nodded and carefully sat up with Stark's assistance.

* * *

The man had offered to call it a day, to show Peter to a room so he could rest and they could continue their talk in the morning. Peter had been more than happy to accept. He had still been exhausted from the night of the attack and barely managed to stay awake long enough to change into his pajama pants and shirt before he had collapsed onto the bed, his sleep restless and then finally broken by the nightmare.

A hot drink did sound like a good idea. Food sounded great as well. He got up careful with his injury, pulled on his shoes and a jacket before he opened the door to the hallway and stuck his head out. He checked either side of the corridor before he turned to his left and walked towards the kitchen. The fact that the Avengers were not around still buzzed in the back of his mind. He had tried to brace himself for the inevitable confrontation after Stark had shown up on his doorstep and had laid out the limited amount of options that were at Peter's disposal. He had dreaded dealing with the fallout and it did give him some sense of calmness that they were not at the Compound. Still, that was only temporary relief. He would have to face them eventually.

Not today though and not tomorrow. And he was grateful for every break he could get.

The first thing he noticed in the kitchen was the display of the microwave. 1:23 am it read in bright red numbers. He'd been asleep for about 3 hours then. Well, _asleep _was a bit of a stretch. He felt everything but rested. Peter screened the automatic coffee maker for hot chocolate options and once he'd figured out the right key sequence he opened up the fridge. There were a few more food options than just a few sandwiches stockpiled in there. He blinked at the variety of meat and vegetables - some of them he'd not even know the name of - until he spotted an egg-salad sandwich on one of the shelves. He reached for his hot chocolate and looked back and forth from the kitchen to the hallway in the direction of the room he had just left. Was he supposed to eat in the room Stark had assigned him to or right there in the kitchen area? Maybe food wasn't even allowed in the rooms.

After a moment of uncertainty, he cleared his throat and turned his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Excuse me, Miss Friday, am I... am I supposed to eat here or..."

_**"You're welcome to sit and eat at the couch set in front of you, in the dining area,"**_ a section of the room lit up revealing a long table _**"or in your assigned bedroom. Mr. Stark is currently in the lab. You are also welcome to join him there if you would like some company." **_

"Oh, okay. That's... thank you." He shut himself up and took a couple of steps towards the couch right in front of him and carefully lowered himself down, trying to be mindful of his injury. He sat and ate. His thoughts drifted back to his nightmare and he shook his head every time he realized his mind went in that direction. He sat quietly for a bit, then leaned back into the cushions after he had finished the sandwich, clutching the cup of hot chocolate. The warm sweet liquid worked like a band-aid for his soul.

While he was determined to keep his thoughts away from the incident (and from the nightmare), he did ponder the events it had let to. Exposing his identity to Tony Stark and all the consequences that had. He had been shocked when the man had turned up at his door and confused and suspicious when he _didn't_ insist on informing May about everything Peter had been up to. With all the things Peter had screwed up, all the mistakes, all the reckless behavior. Everything considered, Stark had been kind and at times almost comforting. Peter shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Stark_ wanted _Peter to trust him. He knew that. He might have made some stupid ass mistakes but he wasn't an idiot. Stark had told him that people were trying to pit enhanced individuals against each other and Stark was trying his best to avoid trouble and as long as Peter's allegiance brought him more benefits than it had drawbacks, it was safe probably for Peter to trust him.

Having someone as powerful as Stark in his corner was a major asset. Peter didn't have any influence, any protection. His powers could only get him so far. Getting Stark to trust him, highlighting that he would be of use as an ally, would have to be Peter's main focus. To keep himself safe and to keep May save.

"Friday, what's Mr. Stark doing in the lab?"

_**"He is fixing the world one broken connection at a time."**_

"Oh." Peter frowned. The AI was either developing a lot more snark or that had been a direct quote.

Peter got off the sofa, cleaned up after himself and headed down the hallway on the other side of the kitchen. The corridors in front of him kept lighting up. That could really only be Friday guiding the way. He would have certainly gotten lost if he had tried to find the way back to the lab on his own. Then he turned a corner and finally recognized the door in the distance as the entrance to the lab, but there was no light shining through into the corridor. Friday had confirmed that Mr. Stark was still there though. Maybe he should just turn around and go back to the room. He was still exhausted. He could really do with the sleep. But there was no telling of what he would see if he closed his eyes. And besides, Peter had to earn Stark's trust and for that he'd have to show up and for once leave some positive impressions. So he stood in front of the lab, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Should he knock or— Never mind. The door slid open, flooding him and the hallway in bright light. Stark was in the middle of the lab, bend over his workbench. He buried his hands deep in his pockets and walked into the room.

This was awkward. He had no idea what to say. Not a clue. Maybe showing up like this in the middle of the night like a lost little baby was sending the exact opposite message of what he wanted to convey. He'd stopped a few feet away from Stark and uncomfortably shuffled his feet underneath himself. Now what?

"Could you bring that 3/16" wrench over here?"

"The... yeah, sure." Peter took a few long strides towards the workbench and found the wrench right away at the end of the table. He walked up to Stark, tool in hand.

"Just put it down over here." The man patted a spot on the desk to his right, so Peter stepped around him and quickly placed the wrench on the smooth surface. "I'm also going to need additional wire. First cabin from the left, second drawer. The No. 2 copper."

Peter breathed a low "okay" and went to open the drawer. He pulled out the roll of wire and turned it over in his hand. Was he supposed to cut off a piece of it? Probably not. He just put it down next to the spot where he'd left the wrench.

"I was looking at your web-shooters earlier... 1.5 hex. Pull out the large top drawer, second cabinet." Peter opened the drawer and found the largest assortment of screwdrivers he'd ever seen. He froze for a moment, stunned by the sheer amount of resources in front of him. Quickly he reached for the 1.5 hex when Stark continued. "The underlining design isn't too shabby, but you're in desperate need of an upgrade."

Peter huffed and suppressed a smirk. "Is that going to be part of that deal?"

Stark looked over to him. "Maybe."

He bit his lip, not sure how far he would get to take the banter with Stark. "If I don't piss you off?"

The man tilted his head and studied him. ".3 hex." He turned back to the control unit in front of him and cut off a piece of the copper wire. "Not pissing me off is a given."

Peter gnawed on his lip. He opened the drawer once again and grabbed the screwdriver.

"You did make them yourself, I presume."

Peter nodded to himself, eyes fixed on what Stark was doing. "Yeah, I did."

"What about the web stuff. How do you do that?"

"I utilized some of the chem class' resources."

Stark snorted. "You're stealing from your classroom?"

"It's mostly stuff they have us use in class anyway." He felt his cheeks burn. "I do bring some additional stuff, that the school wouldn't really have in stock."

"Well, that will need to change." Stark put down the screwdriver and started to reassemble the unit. "We can't have you stealing from the school."

Peter stayed quiet, eyes still on Stark's hands at work, when the man picked up the unit and handed it to him.

"You wanna do the honors?" He pointed to what looked like an oversized robotic arm and Peter frowned, turning the box over in his hands.

"I'm not sure..."

"It's pretty straight forward, two connectors, 3 internal fixing points, an additional 5 to close the case and secure everything neatly. Should be easy to figure out for the kid who built this." Peter looked up to see Stark now lounging on his chair as he held up one of the web-shooters.

Ah. So, this was less of a "helping out" scenario and more of a test. Peter turned the unit over in his hands. His pulse had picked up for a moment, but Stark was right. When he stepped up to the robot and looked at what he had in front of himself, it really was pretty straight forward. While the unit had a few different ports, probably left there after different attempts to get the best possible arrangement, it was quite obvious which ones were live and had to be linked to the loose connectors. This wasn't so bad. Less than 5 minutes later he'd closed up the exterior hatch and secured the remaining screws. He turned to Stark and held out the screwdriver to him, feeling damn well pleased with himself.

"There you go."

"That was it?" Stark refused to take the screwdriver from his hand and raised his brows at him.

Peter frowned. He turned back to look at the thing. "Yeah, that was it. Like you said, it was pretty straight forward." Stark had pursed his lips at the robot when Peter turned back around. He looked over to him indicating the robot.

"Really, you're gonna leave it at that?" He crossed his arms and just looked at him expectantly.

Peter turned back again, his mind went over everything that Stark had listed: two connectors, 3 internal fixing points, an additional 5 to close the case. He had done all that. What the hell was he missing? His hands started to sweat. This was a test. He probably did everything he was supposed to and Stark was simply testing his confidence... right?

"I... yeah. That... that was everything!"

Stark sighed and got up out of his chair. Peter was frozen to his spot as he walked towards him. He reached out to the side of the case. Confused Peter's eyes followed his hand and his face fell as he saw Stark flip a switch on the far bottom of the case.

"I can't believe you made me get up for that."

The robot started initializing and chirping as Peter groaned and threw his head back in resignation. "Well, that wasn't on the list you gave me!"

"The list was just the essentials. I'm always gonna need you to think one step further than that." Peter scowled, crossing his arms. Stark took one look at him and laughed. "Come on, that was a great lesson! I'm gonna be awesome at this."

Of course, there had been a trick in this. He'd probably have to prepare for there always being a second layer of whatever Stark was asking of him.

"Alright, Dummy, how about some tea!"

Peter's eyes shot up at that. _Did he just—_

Stark saw him gape and only waved him off. "I was talking to him." He pointed at the robot.

"It has a name?"

"_He_ has a name."

Peter had to smirk at the affection in the man's voice. At his gesture, he followed Stark over to the large sofa and sat down. The robot followed them shortly afterward holding two cups of steaming tea. Peter was careful to dislodge it from his claw without burning himself or spilling it over Stark's bot. Stark blew at his own cup and took a small sip. He screwed up his face and then shrugged.

"What do you think?"

Peter blinked at him, before blowing on his own cup, and took his time to taste the brew. Brew was an adequate description. What the— What was that? It'd take a whole lot of imagination to categorize it as 'tea'.

He grimaced and glanced down at the cup. "What the hell is this?"

Stark took another sip. "I'd say nettle and maybe anise." He laughed as Peter shook his head. "The last batch tasted like swept up pine needles. This is a definite improvement." He turned to the bot. "Good job, Dummy! Go recharge." Peter frowned at Stark's smile as the bot chirped and buzzed driving itself to the other end of the lab. Just then he realized that there was another bot lined up next to Dummy's charging station.

"That's You."

Peter turned to him in confusion. "Are those... are those more AIs?"

"Well, not really. They are..." He sighed. "They are some early projects from when I was at MIT."

"Huh." Peter turned back to look over to the robots lined up next to each other. He'd not really figured Stark to be the sentimental type, fixing college projects on a Friday night. They both stayed quiet for a bit, Stark still sipping his 'tea'. So what now? Was he supposed to wait till Stark released him back to his room? Or was he expected to read the room and offer to leave? He looked down at the cup in his hand, not sure if Stark would be offended if he didn't drink it.

"It's normal, you know. When you go through something traumatic. Sleeplessness." Stark's eyes were still fixed on the cup in front of him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Peter blinked at him, his mind utterly thrown for a loop. "I..." His hands clutched the cup a little tighter. "No. No, not really."

"You should try to get some sleep then," Stark suggested with a solemn nod.

Peter was quiet for a moment. He didn't really want that either. "Are you?"

Stark's lips curled into a smirk. "I don't do well with sleep."

"Well, do _you_ want to talk about it?"

He shot a quick glance at the man. Maybe this had been too far. But Stark only laughed. Weirdly, Peter found that he hadn't even been all together kidding. But was that really a thing? Stark had said that he needed help, too. But did _Iron Man really sit down and tell people about this part of being a superhero? The trauma, the nightmares? _

Well, he had just said that it was normal. He must have been referring to the nightmare. Surely, Stark's AI was monitoring him and kept the man informed about what he was doing. He had ordered her to watch him at the Tower when Peter had dashed and he was under no illusion that Stark would be trusting him any more at this stage, not after he had run. So, he'd be aware that Peter had woken up screaming on the top of his lungs. His throat still felt raw and he just barely resisted the impulse to rub it as he was thinking about it again. Stark had also alluded to panic attacks when Peter was falling apart at the Tower, basically claimed he had had them in his penthouse just the same.

"I stopped you. The night it happened." Peter looked up as Stark's words were echoing through the otherwise quiet lab. He had been lost so deeply in his thoughts that he hadn't realized that Stark had fallen silent himself, how he had put down the cup on the table in front of them. "You were about to tell me, how you were attacked and I stopped you." The man turned in his seat to face him. "I shouldn't have done that. I... I regret doing that. I should have let you talk. I'm sorry."

Peter had to look away from him. The intensity of Stark's words hit him unprepared. "That's... that's fine. You don't..." He shook his head, nervously scratching his face. "You don't have to... to worry about that."

"I disagree."

Eyes still cast down, Peter huffed in dry amusement. Unsure what to do he actually took another sip from his cup and yuck, right. Nessel and Annis. He frowned at the cup and a shiver went through him, as the hot liquid ran down his throat actually easing his raw skin.

"You can tell me now."

He put the cup down and leaned back, his arms crossed. "It's fine. I don't really _want_ to talk about it. I'm fine."

For a moment, Stark stayed quiet and Peter almost convinced himself that he would let it go. "You're not fine, kid. You know that. You're not dumb. You know, that you're not fine." His voice was low, almost sympathetic, but Peter was careful to keep his eyes cast down. He didn't want this. He didn't want to remember. "Just tell me."

Peter bit his lip and sniffed a dry laugh. "Is that an order, Sir?"

"It can be. But I'd rather have you come to the realization that it's a necessity to help you get over what happened without me having to excessively force the issue. To understand what happened. To learn from it." Stark's response lacked any undercurrent of duress, but Peter was sure that Stark would make hearing about that night a condition for any future help he'd offer if Peter were to refuse his request.

"Maybe... maybe we could do this... tomorrow. I just... I need some time... I can't..." He looked up and found Stark's eyes fixed on him. He swallowed deeply as the man tilted his head only vaguely to the side and kept his eyes on him expectantly. Peter swallowed again, his throat dry. He pulled his own eyes away from Stark and first looked down to his hands, then reached for the cup again, desperate to occupy himself with something. He was only met with silence, no long argument, no vast emotionally manipulative speech like May would use on him. Only silence and what seemed like the certainty that Peter would eventually talk was radiating from Stark.

It happened to be a most effective method. He felt his own resolve melting away, the awkwardness of the quiet room made him want to talk, just to make things less awkward. He knew exactly what Stark was doing, but he couldn't help it. He'd have to tell him at some point. Anything to make sitting in that lab less excruciating.

"I didn't pay attention. I thought... I had been laying low for a bit, after ditching the Falcon, but I knew there was danger out there. I sensed it, I... I can sense things like that." He shot a short glance over to Stark before he cast his eyes down to the cup again. The man's expression hadn't changed, his eyes still set on Peter unblinkingly.

"I thought... I thought that someone from... from your team was probably still looking for me and it would only be a matter of time till they found me if I didn't move. And I... I just wanted to get home. So, I left. I was thinking about what route to take, trying to make sure that I wouldn't lead anyone back home. I turned a corner too quickly and walked into a group of people. Just... just random criminals, I guess. They attacked me and I didn't react fast enough cause I was preoccupied with... well. I just didn't pay attention."

Once more he took a sip of the robot's brew, another quick look to the side catching a glimpse of Stark's reaction.

"You ran out of whatever powers those shooters," Stark added matter of factly.

Peter frowned in surprise. "How do you know that?"

"When I told Friday to call the EMTs and you tried to run, one of them wasn't working. I looked at them earlier tonight, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with either of them. Maybe I'm wrong but it doesn't seem to me like you'd have been in any condition to fix them already if one of them had been broken."

Peter nodded, eyes cast down at his cup again. "I didn't touch them since that night. Yeah, the web fluid had run out." He bit his lip, shaking his head at his own foolishness. "I'd used some of it up patrolling, then most of it tying up that dude in the street in Manhattan. Some more when I was running from the Falcon." He shrugged, still avoiding Stark's glance. "I wasn't prepared for that day. I'd never used that much fluid in that short amount of time." He swallowed another sip of the hot liquid. "I did have back up fluid on me. I just... I didn't check... I didn't realize, how much I'd used."

He fell silent peering down into the cup. The panic he had felt when he was lying on the ground trying to defend himself and one of the web shooter just didn't want to work threatened to rush over him again. He swallowed another deep gulp of the tea and shook it off with a quick jerk of his head.

"It took me a bit to realize that I'd run out. When I did, I focused on trying to knock them out, to get them off me. I got maybe 2 out of 6 when one of the guys behind me pulled out a knife. I..." He shook his head again. The details of what had happened then were a blur. "I don't really know how maybe... maybe my senses came back to me and that's how I sidestepped him. To avoid the knife the best I could. I don't... I don't really know."

"What do you mean, 'your senses came back to you'?"

Peter cast a short glance over to Stark again, then looked away. "It's... when whatever happened happened... when I was... bitten. It's like my senses were dialed up to 11. I can... I can feel things, I can see things far off, just everything is more intense."

"You can feel when someone pulls out a knife behind your back?"

He looked over at Stark, shaking his head. How would he even explain what he felt? He had no idea how any of that even worked. "No, it's more like... I didn't know it was a knife, but I knew that there was danger behind me and it's... I don't know how to explain it. It's like a weird kind of instinct where my body just knows what to do. How to avoid danger. Or..." Peter shrugged and turned his eyes down again. "Or that's what I thought. I'm not so sure anymore."

"Is that how you turned up at the scene at Lexington Avenue?"

Peter looked up right into Stark's stunned face. "Yeah... yeah, my senses were flaring up, so I knew something was happening. And so I decided... yeah."

"And so you decided to try and help."

Peter nodded, head bowed low.

"And now, you don't trust your instincts anymore? Because you got hurt."

Again, Peter nodded.

"Pete, look at me." Reluctantly he turned he eyes back on Stark, met his gaze full on. "It seems to me those... senses work just fine. From what you just told me, you'd be dead without them." Peter bit his lip, mulling that over. "Heightened senses... let me guess. Your hearing is probably quite remarkable as well," Stark asked.

A red flush crept up into his face. "Mr. Stark, I'm sorry, I-"

The man gestured for him to stop talking. "You were listening to me when I was on the phone."

Peter swallowed hard, but he nodded. "You said... you said: _We can't drag him anywhere tonight. _and I... I just assumed—"

"You assumed I'd wait a day to bring you to the Compound, to hand you over to the team."

Peter nodded affirmatively.

"So, that's why you ran?" Stark shook his head in open confusion. "If you listened, then you'd have known that I didn't tell them that you were at the Tower. I didn't even tell them that _I _was at the Tower."

Peter sighed, eyes back on his cup. "Not in that conversation, you didn't. But I didn't... there would have been other ways... without me overhearing." He bit his lip. How honest would he need to be with Stark, how open? How much should he be telling the man? "It was part of the reason, yes. But... it was May. I had to get back before she came home from work. I couldn't... I couldn't let her find out like that. She'd have freaked out if I'd been gone and—"

"Alright, stop. I get it. I'm still not happy about what you did." Stark leaned back into the cushions, his arms crossed. "You understand, that we need to trust each other for this to work, right?"

"Yes, Sir. I know. I promise, I—"

"Na-ah-ah! Don't promise me stuff you're not going to be able to keep."

Peter looked up at him, his pulse at an all-time high for this conversation.

"I don't need you to promise me some idealistic level of candor that you're destined to fail at some point anyway." Stark was looking right at him and Peter could tell that he'd better not look away from the man now. "I'll certainly have my secrets and there'll be times when I won't tell you everything you might want to know. And I won't expect anything else from you either. Having secrets is not a crime. It's not even a disqualifier for a good alliance. What I do expect from you are loyalty and honesty. There'll be no exceptions. There will be no room for lies, no room for rigging the system by trying to get things past me you know I'd not allow. Not even just a little bit. Not if I'm supposed to trust you. No bending the truth, no omitting parts of the story. If I ask you for information and there's something you don't want to tell me, you will say so. If you have a good reason to have a secret, I won't press you for details. And I will promise to do the same."

Peter looked down at the cup he was still holding and saw the liquid vibrate in his shaking hands. He quickly set the cup down on the table and clasped his own hands to keep them steady.

"Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yes, Sir." He looked up at Stark, his voice shaking with nerves. "I do promise that."


	17. You Don't Have Interns - Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 - You Don't Have Interns**

The workshop was a bit of a mess. Well, not the whole workshop. Most of it was centered around his main workbench and the extendable panel on the wall that held most of the components he had worked on for 'Project S' so far. Yeah... no. 'Project S' was a dumb name. He'd have to come up with something better. Tony's gaze rested on the open panel. He had taken a break from actually crafting the different parts, the net of flexible sensors that would spread across the whole suit and not just take in data but was also re-enforced to lent extra protection. But it was the digital side of things that he was focused on for now. The programming would have to be en point. There was no room - absolutely no room - for mistakes or miscalculations. This wasn't one of his self-experiments.

"How about 'Project Sojourner'?"

**_"Is this supposed to be a secret code, so only you understand the reference, or are others supposed to get the joke, Sir?"_**

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "What's with the snark, FRIDAY? Did I do something to upset you, darling?"

**_"Not at all, Boss. It's always a delight to be working with you."_**

Tony just huffed, fell back into his chair and spun around. The holo-keyboard shone in bright blue colors hovering a few inches over the surface of the workbench. The code was projected right in front of him. The kid would probably need an AI to work the full capacity of the suit. That would come later though. For now, he'd only get access to the essentials. Safety was of the utmost importance. He couldn't risk the boy getting stabbed again or worse. Not on Tony's watch. He highlighted about 95% of the code he had written so far.

"FRIDAY, put all this into a new file." A second projection popped up next to the original one. "We'll just call that one '3A training wheels' for now."

**_"How about the other file, Boss?"_**

"Save it under '3A part II' and then close that file... for now. We'll really have to focus on setting up the basic functionality first."

He'd seen the kid at work a couple of times. The most common danger when he was out and about would probably be falling off something. If he lost hold of the web for some reason or if it got cut or something distracted him. Yeah. The parachute would definitely have to stay in the training wheels program. He should be able to think of a few other things to soften a fall though. Just in case. And something that would alert him about sharp objects. Even if the kid's senses or his... like the feeling-danger intuition thingy he had even with that some alert system might help him filter through all the sensory input and pinpoint specific dangers and weapons faster.

Tony had probably questioned the boy about those senses of his maybe three or four more times that weekend after Peter had initially told him about his special abilities. It didn't help that the boy himself didn't really have a clue what exactly had happened to him, what the exact implications for his body were. All the information he had been given was very vague. Tony might have been inclined to think that the boy just feigned ignorance but he was way too easy to read. That much had been obvious the first time that Peter had taken off the mask when he was almost delirious with pain and lay bleeding on Tony's living room table.

**_"Sir, Miss Romanoff is at the door."_**

Tony rubbed a hand across his face. He felt nasty. Not just sweaty and greasy, but gross in general. He usually didn't really care about the grease all that much. He had it on good authority that he actually looked pretty hot in a bit of grease. Damn, he still hadn't set aside time to fucking go to LA and see Pepper.

"FRIDAY, you were supposed to remind me to set a date for LA."

**_"I did, Sir."_**

He pulled up the hem of his shirt and roughly rubbed the fabric across his face. Well, he was a long way away from 'a bit of grease' currently.

_**"I also reminded you to stop working, take a shower and sleep, but you repeatedly ignored me."**_

"Is that why you're this bitchy?" he mumbled under his breath.

FRIDAY didn't answer though she had definitely heard him. He could have sworn that she actually huffed even though he never programmed her to know how to huff.

**_"Sir, Miss Romanoff—"_**

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, FRI."

_**"I'm sorry, Sir. It seemed to me like you were preoccupied with your body odor."**_

"You really are upset with me, aren't you?" He got off his chair and put some of the tools away that looked more like he would need them to work on a secret big tech-y project instead of fixing one of the bots or putting something together for R&D.

**_"No more than usual, Sir."_**

He shook his head at her antics. Maybe he'd have to rethink giving his AIs this much of a personality. He really had enough people in his life that liked to boss him around. _He_ was supposed to be the boss, damn it.

"Lock up panel 3A, then let her in."

_**"Of course, Boss."**_

He pulled his focus back to the tools laid out in front of him on the workbench. He put away enough of them to hide the complexity of his new project but left some of them lying around so it wouldn't look like he was actively trying to hide something from her. A short glance confirmed that FRIDAY had closed the panel on the opposite wall. He had only just turned away from the panel when the lab doors opened with a low hiss.

"Shit, Tony... How long have you been in here? Might want to crack a window..." She didn't even look like she hadn't seen a proper bathroom or gotten a good night's sleep since Thursday. Not fair.

"Nat. Stop insulting my vent system. Are we at war with Switzerland yet?"

"Please. They had no idea we were even there. Seriously though... you look like shit." She made a show of taking a sniff in his general direction and wrinkled her nose playful disgust. "How long did you lock yourself in here?"

It took all his remaining concentration skills not to pout at her. "I didn't _lock_ myself in here. I had things to do. I _have_ things to do. What time is it?"

"3 pm." She casually leaned against to workbench. It was subtle but after all these years, Tony had learned to tell when Natasha was gathering information. Casual glances noting and categorizing changes around the room. Chances were that she didn't care too much that Tony knew what she was doing. That she had just let down her guard in front of him and that's why he could tell. They were on the same team after all. Of course, there was also the possibility that she simply slipped in those obvious tells to keep him in the dark about all the times she was actually seriously trying to get in-tell on him. For Fury most likely. Not that it mattered. She wouldn't find out anything about his new little secret project.

"Huh. How come you're back early? I thought you wouldn't be back until tonight. Did something go wrong?"

She frowned. "We're late, actually. Tony, it's Wednesday."

"Oh, it's... _Oh._" Fuck. He spun around and grabbed a few more tools but then dropped them onto the workbench again.

Natasha sighed, "We had to check out a few additional—"

"Right. I gotta go. DUM-E, put those away, will ya!"

"Tony, come—I get that you're... uncomfortable with the whole thing. I really do. Steve is just—"

"Seriously, I need to go." He walked straight past her to the stairs in the back of his workshop. He took the steps two at a time and quickly made his way up to his office space.

"Let's just—" He could barely hear her start the sentence only to drop it when he was clearly out of earshot. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that she hadn't followed him to the office.

"FRI, seriously. It's Wednesday?!" Tony pulled out a couple of drawers. He'd left them in there somewhere.

_**"Sir, I told you that it was time to take a shower and sleep but you—"**_

"Yeah, yeah. I just— Here we go." He pocketed the web-shooters and made his way back down into the shop. Natasha hadn't moved from her spot at the workbench. He really didn't have time to think about their Bucky-hunting-trip right now. As long as they hadn't pissed off a foreign government he didn't need to know about their extracurricular activities. Paying for them was sufficient involvement for his taste.

"Steve's just trying to make things right," she tried again.

"I'm aware of Cap's general driving incentive. I gotta go. I got a... an intern that'll show up at the Tower in like an hour and—"

"I know all of this is a lot. It sucks, I get that. I get that even if he's just a Hydra tool he—"

"Nat!" He pulled up his hands and gestured for her to stop. "Just... can you not? Right now? We can do all this later. Unless there is something concerning national security or... global security or something else I need to know about this minute, all of this can wait. I need to find a shower. I got—"

"Wait, did you just say that you got an intern? When the hell did you get an intern?"

"What are you talking about, I've always had—"

She shook her head and pulled a face. "Don't try to pull this one on me. You don't have interns."

"Of course, I do!" Well, technically he didn't, personally, but that didn't matter. They'd had interns at SI and he did occasional meet with them. Well, see them. In the hallway. At a distance. A very great distance.

"Like someone that you supervise? In your lab? Is that even safe?"

"Nat, this is SI business. Are you actually trying to tell me how to run my fucking company right now?" She had actually gotten him to stop in his tracks. It was completely beside the point that he was technically not quite truthful but for all she knew, this was still about _his_ company.

"You're not running your company. Pepper is running your company!"

He rolled his eyes and just waved her off. "Either way, you certainly aren't and I didn't ask for your advice, did I?"

"So, you're trying to get back onto Pepper's good side. She still mad?" The know-it-all certainty on her face annoyed him even more than her line of questioning.

"Everything I do is to get on Pepper's good side." He pointedly ignored her question. No need to state the obvious or ponder on how much trouble their officially still existing but unofficially dead-as-a-doornail relationship really was.

Natasha's eyebrows shot up.

"Fine," he shrugged. "I do tend to strive for not pissing her off at least."

"Well—"

"Seriously, Nat. I don't need a lecture on Pepper."

"Okay, I get it." She threw up her hands in a defensive gesture. "I really just wanted to check in with you. How did things go with the NYC authorities?"

"Things went fine. No thanks to any of you." He took off towards the lab doors. "I'll fill you in at the next team meeting."

The doors opened for him, but he turned and looked back at Natasha. She still hadn't moved, arms crossed in front of her. What was she even thinking? Like he'd let her stay in the lab on her own.

"Come on. Let's go!"

"You're being weird. More so than usual." She dropped her arms in a shrug and stalked towards him. "You know, you can talk to me."

"I'm not being weird."

"Tony..." She stepped out of the room and FRIDAY sealed the lab behind her.

He didn't even bother to react to her accusation. "Have FRIDAY make a date in the diary for the team debrief."

He had shit to do. The kid would show up in about an hour and he probably looked like he'd been living on the streets since Sunday. Not the kind of authority vibe he was going for. How was it fucking Wednesday already? He distinctly remembered that it was only two nights that he worked after Peter had left on Sunday.

That whole weekend had flown by in a rush. That first night, Friday night, he had still been quite pissed with the boy. Properly pissed with him actually. He had absolutely not enjoyed sewing him up when he had shown up at the Tower. He was a mechanic, not a doctor, damn it. Not that he wasn't resourceful, but from all the stuff he'd had to deal with since he had started his superhero career, stitching up a 15-year-old kid without so much as anesthesia had certainly been on the bottom of things he had enjoyed about the whole Iron Man deal. The very, very bottom. Then it turned out the boy hadn't even bothered to look after the fucking thing.

He had been annoyed to no end and then... and then the little shit went ahead and woke up screaming from a nightmare. Because someone had tried to stab him. After he'd helped them prevent hundreds if not thousands of civilian deaths from a terror plot and after being chased down by Wilson like a common thief, the kid had been stabbed and almost bled out.

Shit, when Tony was 15, his biggest problem had been whether he'd have to share his room at MIT or if his folks would get him a proper place to live at by himself. Sure, there was the odd kidnapping attempt or blackmailer, nothing like this though. Not at 15. And then there was that dickhead at the NYPD. This whole thing was really hitting all of Tony's sweet spots from civil disobedience to rebellious philanthropy. Sure, the kid would be a great asset. But as far as Tony could tell he was also doing things for the right reasons. In the end, that'd probably be even more crucial.

* * *

They had sat down in the common room on Saturday morning. Tony wasn't really one to have any kind of breakfast that exceeded a couple of cups of coffee, but the fridge was stocked and with the team still on mission and Vision somewhere in Canada following a lead from the NYC terror plot, everyone was out. So, they might as well eat and talk.

Tony had been worried that the whole thing would be super weird. He had no idea how to deal with a teenager but it was crucial to learn more about the Spiderling. It turned out to be a great idea for the kid seemed to run on food. As soon as Tony had put down some scrambled eggs and fried bacon in front of the boy he just wouldn't stop talking.

"—and it really is super ridiculous. Why would they put these kinds of konimeters in the labs in the first place? First of all we can hardly get them out of the room let alone down three sets of staircases to get them in the streets so we can get proper readings on the emissions and even if we would they aren't even specifically calibrated to extract P10 particles which was the whole point of the end of term project."

When the kid did need to breathe Tony actually managed to get in a couple of sentences. "Are you trying to tell me that they spend my money on bullshit equipment or are you trying to get me to give them more money for better equipment? I can't quite tell."

The boy blushed. "I... No. I... I didn't mean it like that." His eyes were fixed on the plate in front of him. They had been the whole time. While Tony was watching him, determined to figure out what made the kid tick, the Spiderling never once turned his eyes up to him. "It's... of course we're lucky to have anything to even start to understand how the whole process even—"

"Hey, kid." Tony just managed to hide a grin as the boy stopped talking and looked up at last. "I'm just messing with you. I get that it sucks to work with outdated equipment, but they all have their kinks and sometimes you learn more by beating those out of them and work your way around it."

Peter poked at the last of the egg on his plate, eyes turned away from Tony again.

"Did you?"

The boy looked back up at him. "Did we what, Sir?"

"Did you find a way around your problem?"

Peter shrugged and bit his lip before he answered. "We changed the premise of the test series and just opened the window and took samples during different times of the day."

Tony did laugh at that. "Perfect. Any reliable findings? Maybe I can bring you to my next meeting with the mayor and convince him to finally invest in our clean energy technology."

"Consistently high exposure, extreme amplitude during rush hour. As was to be expected." His eyes were still cast down as he the food around on his plate.

Tony sighed. "Alright, I'm sorry for bringing down the mood. I didn't mean to make you feel bad about your rant. I too hate shitty equipment."

"It's not—" The kid shook his head and only mumbled a "never mind" before he shoved the last bit of food into his mouth.

With another sigh, Tony got up from the table and put away the rest of the food before engaging the cleaning bots. When the boy was sufficiently sated they wandered down to the lab. Tony had made sure that the web-shooters were out of the kid's reach. While he didn't think that the flight risk was particularly high at that point, there was no reason to tempt the boy. There was always a chance that he had another set somewhere, but with his limited resources it was a slim one. Tony was determined to keep him from any kind of Spider-Man-ing until they had hashed out a few of the finer points of their... well... deal. Plus, the kid still had some healing to do.

The web-shooters safely out of reach, they spend the day on the web fluid. Until late in the afternoon Peter had talked Tony through the process, how he had come up with the fluid in the first place, the different trial and errors, some theories he wanted to try out to strengthen the web, make it last longer or fly further.

"From what I found, the more range I get the more the resilience suffers. I've also tried different batches of endurance in terms of the duration. The fluid I use now will dissolve after about 2 hours." He pointed to a certain part in the formula that triggered that specific attribute. They had used the holo-screen to map out the formula. That had the added bonus that Tony could have FRIDAY save and analyze everything right away.

Tony nodded along. "So right now, you use one batch at a time, right? You load up the web-shooters and then you gotta use whatever batch you have in there."

"Exactly." Tony had let Peter sit in his own chair. He didn't mind standing and the kid really shouldn't be on his feet all day with that wound of his. "I mean, it'd be great to choose between different fluids depending on the situation I'm in during a fight or a chase or if I just try to get from point a to point b, but of course that would require a much more complex shooter than I build."

"It sure would." Tony archived that thought for later. That would definitely be something he had to look into.

"I do have a lot more notes on all this." He fiddled with his fingers, eyes firmly on the display in front of him. "I just... I didn't think that... that we'd be doing all this. I mean, I know you said you wanted to figure stuff out and I just didn't think that it would—"

"Pete. It's fine. You've already given me a lot to think about here. Just bring the notes next time."

The boy's glance shot over to him. "I... Nex—next time. Of... of course... I just... I'll just bring them. Next time."

Tony blinked at him. Had he not been clear about that? "You do realize that if we want to use the internship as your cover you'll have to show up in the lab occasionally."

Peter's mouth fell open. "Oh."

"Oh?" Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Is that a problem?"

"No!" The kid sat up straight. "No, of course not, Mr. Stark. I... I just thought... I thought that was supposed to cover the... erm... the time I would be patrolling."

Patrolling. Right. "Right. I mean, partially. Once you're actually healed. I guess, yeah. I definitely want you in the lab once a week though. Maybe twice in the beginning until we get the hang of things."

Peter's eyes widened. "You... you want me to come out to the Compound? Twice a week? But..." The kid's fingers did a nervous dance on the work surface in front of him. "But what about..." he gulped and added with a small whisper. "about the Avengers."

"They're not like Beetlejuice, kid." Tony did his best not to roll his eyes at the display of pure paranoia Peter harbored for the team. "They won't magically pop up if you utter their name."

The kid's face turned scarlet red and he gave it a few short shakes from one side to the other, so Tony only waved him off. "I mean like... like Voldemort."

"Mr. Stark, I know who Beetlejuice is."

"Well, good. At least some of you youngsters appreciate the classics I guess."

The boy ignored his remark completely and just kept on shaking his head, a twitch in his shoulder added another level of bewilderment. "That's not... Won't they get suspicious? If I show up here all the time, won't they start wondering and ask questions? What if they find out? What if they dig a little deeper and realize that—"

"Pete, first of all, you won't be able to run from them forever." Tony raised his hands in a soothing gesture. "I'm not saying I'll tell them. I'm just saying. They are bound to find out at some point." He did take pity on the boy when his knuckles turned white from how hard he was holding onto the table to stop himself from shaking. "You don't have to be scared of them, Pete. I know you got off on the wrong foot, but they are not your enemies."

The kid tried his best to nod along to Tony's words but it was plain to see that he was not just wary of the eventual meeting but positively terrified.

"Either way, that won't be an issue. I'll be at the Tower most of the time anyway. It's a lot closer for you. You'll just meet me there."

That did make the boy look up. "The... the Tower?"

"What, you don't like the Tower either?"

"No, not at all." He let go of the workbench at last, eyes cast down again, and fiddled with the seam of his shirt. "It's..." He shook his head and muttered another "never mind".

"You keep doing that." Tony's eyes were still firmly set on the kid, studying him. "You do this thing where you're in the middle of saying something and then shut yourself up."

"It's..." The boy shook his head again. "I know, I talk too much."

"Who told you that?"

Peter just shrugged a half-heartened laugh. "It's not polite when— People don't like it when you dump word-vomit on them."

"Well, fuck those people." There you go, that got his attention. Round brown eyes stared up it Tony, hands now frozen in his lab.

"What about the Tower?"

Peter shook himself out of his trance and blinked a couple of times before he spoke. "The... the project I told you about. The emissions project. That wasn't really our first choice. We were gonna work on a clean energy analysis and, well..."

"And there's only one name in clean energy right now." Tony pursed his lips.

"That's right. So, yeah. I mean, the Tower it's... it's really something."

"It sure is. That's one of the reason's why we don't want school groups in there." Tony had crossed his arms. They did get field trip inquiries all the time and he got the fascination, but there was just no way.

"Yeah. I know." Peter cleared his throat and very obviously swallowed another part of his response.

"I mean you're officially an SI intern now." Tony shrugged. "Or you will be by some time tonight when I have hacked my own company's system to falsify your application and verify your credentials."

The boy's face turned red and he shifted in his seat.

"That's not gonna the kind of thing we'd do on the first day, but I guess... once things have settled down..." Peter's head shot up and he stared at Tony, eyes wide in wonder. "I don't see a reason why you shouldn't get to take a look at the arc."

"That... Mr. Stark, that would be amazing!"

"You can't write your paper on it."

"No, I mean, sure. That... of course. I understand."

"Good. That's settled then. You'll come by the Tower on Wednesdays and then maybe every other Friday."

The boy nodded. His fingers back to giddily fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"FRI, have you put that in the diary?"

_**"Sure did, Boss."**_

He couldn't help but smile at the amazement that radiated from Peter whenever he got FRIDAY involved. Most people were sceptical if not outright suspicious but after the initial shock of meeting her, Peter had been positively beaming whenever the AI would engage with them. Maybe that was just this new generation with their phones and their tablets attached to them they didn't scare so easily when it came to technology. Or maybe the Spiderling was just a bit different.

Tony couldn't help but wink at FRIDAYS camera right above them before the turned his attention back to Peter. "Let's get back to your web-fluid then."

The kid was clever, there was no denying that. Really clever. So clever in fact that it left Tony flabbergasted how many shitty situations the boy had gotten himself into in such a short amount of time. Juvenility. That naive enthusiasm. Not really anything that he could get judgmental about. Who knew how many stupid reckless tight spots Tony would have landed himself in if his father hadn't beaten the carefree jump-before-looking mentality out of him. His father and Obie.

Hell, there had been plenty regardless.

The kid only had his aunt. Parents dead. Uncle murdered. And the boy had his aunt wrapped around his little finger with that innocent schoolboy routine. The charm and the cheek. Not that Tony had seen much of that first hand, mere glimpses of it. But he'd seen the videos. Spider-Man on his patrols. The naive enthusiasm. The kid had some gall, dripping with snark and sarcasm. No, he hadn't seen _that_ first hand. He'd only seen what the cheek and snark, the happy-go-lucky attitude had gotten the boy into. The pain. The fear. The despair.

He'd have to remember that. Working with the kid was easy. He had great intuition. Knew how to work a problem. When all that teenage naiveté and cheek would creep back to the surface Tony would have to remember how the boy had looked, beaten and broken. He'd have to remember what had happened when nobody had had the boy's back. When nobody had pulled him back from the edge that teenage naiveté mixed with supernatural powers were surely bound to pull him back to eventually.


	18. Access and Entry - Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 - Access and Entry**

His eyes were glued to the notes in front of him, but the constant tick-tick-tick of the clock above the classroom door was inescapable, Spider-senses or not. As if he wasn't counting the seconds for the school day to be over already. And dreading it at the same time.

He had of course been to the Tower before. A couple of times in fact. While he still couldn't quite grasp where that overwhelming courage had come from that Friday night when he had climbed all the way up to the penthouse to repay Tony Stark's visit, the second time had been a lot more humbling. He absentmindedly scratched at the bandages still covering his abdomen underneath his shirt. There was a distinct tingling. By his medical expertise - fine, from what google said - that was supposed to mean that his wound was healing. A good sign, right? And his wound had improved considerably since the weekend. Thankfully. And Peter had been mindful to keep it clean and cared for. He had promised he would and he was going to stick to the deal he had made with Mr. Stark. As long as he stuck to the deal he would be fine.

Still, the prospect of walking into the Tower in full daylight, as an official intern, Mr. Stark's personal intern, it filled him with dread. It was damn awesome of course. On the surface, everyone would think that he was there helping Tony Stark. Working with _Iron Man_. But he knew the truth. He was there so Stark could keep an eye on him. Keep him in check. It was a... well, not really a punishment. He wouldn't go that far. Probation. That's what it was. He was watched and evaluated. And if he managed to stay on his best behavior he would get to be Spider-Man again. If he screwed up, well. He wasn't going to screw up.

The subway ride over to Manhattan was tedious. He hadn't been on that line in forever. There was never any reason for him to go to Manhattan. All that was there, were overprices shops and a whole bunch of tourists and rich people. No need to get out of Queens. Well, there was some crime in Manhattan of course, but he hadn't taken the train to get over the river for that. The cart he was in was packed. A few children laughing at fart jokes. A group of guys reenacting some kind of sporting event. The two girls sitting right next to him were sharing a set of headphones and Ariana Grande's voice echoed in his head like someone was trying to drill through his skull. A lady screeching into her phone on the other end of the cart. Everything was just too close, too loud, too much!

When the train finally got to Grand Central - 42nd Street, he jumped out as soon as the doors opened up. The amount of people on the platform was even worse than on the train, but Peter was quick to dodge people and fast to exit the station. Stark Tower was only a street from where he stepped out into the open air. He had to crane his head to look all the way up to Tony Stark's floors from where he stood on the sidewalk.

Just as he was about to turn the corner to the main entrance the soft vibrations of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. Private number. Huh. Who'd call him from an unknown number on a Wednesday afternoon? Probably one of those telemarketing agencies. He'd been so careful to check all the apps that Ned would send him to check out for possible data phishing. But he had barely canceled the call when his phone was vibrating again with another call. He stared at the words written across the screen in bold capital letters.

"PRIVATE NUMBER"

The letters kept flashing along with the vibration of the phone. His thumb hovered over the button to cancel the call. Something was off. Hadn't he read something about those kinds of telemarketing calls? Weren't they legally required to display their own number now? A split-second later his thumb hit the green receiver on the screen instead. He watched the letters disappear and a bright white timer flash up instead.

00:01

00:02

00:03

He shook himself out of his trance and swiftly held the phone to his ear.

"He—Hello?"

"Where the _hell_ are you?!"

"I—I am at—" Peter shook his head and the surprise that had him freeze up from his bones. "Who is this?"

"Who the fuck do you think would be calling you right now to find out where the hell you are, Parker?!"

"I..." He gulped at the harsh voice ringing in his ear. "Mr. — Mr. Stark?"

"Bingo. What the hell, kid? My driver just called. He's been waiting in front of your house for more than 30 minutes. And _you_ have yet to show your face. Where the hell are you?"

"I—I'm at—at the Tower, Sir." With a suppressed cough he tried to somewhat clear his throat. "I—I was just about to walk into the building."

"Oh."

"I didn't—I didn't go home after school, Sir. I didn't think I'd mak—"

"Fine. Just get up here."

The call was disconnected before Peter even had a chance to respond. Dumbfounded his hand fell away from his ear and the screen of his phone lit up again.

0:43

Less than a minute. And it had taken all of two seconds for his heart rate to spike and his hands to sweat. His face was probably fiery red. It sure felt like it was. Had he missed something? Had he spaced out to marvel at the exciting mess that he had gotten himself into and not listened? Mr. Stark hadn't used that voice on him since that night Peter got hurt. Since he had found out that Peter was only... well, Peter. Mr. Stark was—

Mr. Stark!

Peter jolted upright. His eyes flew up towards the high floors of the Tower again, but only for a second. Mr. Stark was waiting for him. He really needed to get a move on. He quickly turned the corner. Maybe a little too quick for a regular teenager, but that wasn't important now. Plus, his head was hurting. All the people on the train and then the traffic. Cars honking. Phones ringing. Chatter all around him. The huge glass doors that separated the Tower from the outside world would have intimidated him mere minutes ago but now seemed like a welcome relief for his worn-out senses. He headed straight for the main entrance, but came to a sudden stop when a huge man blocked his way right as Peter's hand went for the handle of the door.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"I..." Peter's eyes up wandered up the comically huge torso 'til they settled on the man's face, drawn in annoyance. "Excuse me, Sir. I... I have an appointment."

The security guard's eyebrows didn't even twitch. "With Iron Man himself, I'm sure." He waved to a street corner on the other side of the crossing. "Merch's sold over there. Now skedaddle."

"But I— I'm an intern and I really need to—"

"Where's your name tag? Access card?" The man's eyes narrowed on him as Peter's mouth fell open without response. Shit. The man in front of him broadened his shoulders and seemed to grow another foot, forcing Peter to take a step back from the door.

"Do I look like I want to hear a story, kid? Shoo!"

It seemed like the mood was a little strained all around the Tower today. Mr. Stark certainly sounded like he was about to break out his armor and hunt Peter down. The guy in front of him didn't seem all that thrilled with his day either and people around them were starting to notice the scene, including the two police officers that hung out just a few feet away from them. Damn, he really needed to get to Mr. Stark's lab on time. Peter tried to stay as calm and collected as the situation allowed which mostly meant deep breaths to keep the flush out of his face and his body from trembling with nerves.

"Please, if you could just let Mr. Stark know that—"

"Alright, bucko. Not having any of that. Hey!" He waved and got the undivided attention of the two officers right away. "Murphy, you need one for your quota?"

Peter took a couple of steps back from the entrance, eyes wide. What was wrong with people? His mind was swimming with overstimulation and he had to bite his tongue hard not to curse the guy out. As huge as the guy was, Peter would totally be able to take him. Hell, he could take all three of them. Damn, arrogant—

He backtracked another few steps and tore his eyes off the security guard's smug face.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With hasty steps, Peter retreated and turned the next corner, not even bothering to look back. He took refuge in a cove next to a service entrance, his back leaned against the cold wall. His head stung painfully as he let it fall back against the solid surface behind him, eyes trailing up to the top of the building. It was quieter in that little cove. There was less traffic on that side street than in front of the main entrance and it came as a welcome relief to his senses. Deep breaths. He was alright. Just needed to think. As his mind quieted down and his muscles relaxed from the overstimulation, his eyes focused on a different part of the building a lot further down than Mr. Stark's floors on top of the Tower. Was that...

He leaned out of the cove and shot a quick look up and down the street to either side. Yeah, that confirmed it. This was the part of the building that Peter had made his escape from that night. That night he had gotten hurt. And right there above him was the view platform on the 25th floor. He shrugged to move the straps off his backpack further up on his shoulders, then tightened them. A swift hand pulled up the hood from his jacket. He turned his face towards the wall as a further precaution.

What was he supposed to do? They wouldn't let him get inside of the building. Mr. Stark was already pissed and there was no way for Peter to contact the man. He only wished he still had his suit. Or at least his mask. Both were damaged beyond repair though. This was the only way! He hadn't really done any major Spider-Man-ing, that jump over the school fence the previous week, which had hurt. A lot. His hand snaked underneath his jacket and came to rest on the bandages. A couple of deep breaths later he decided he would be fine. He could do this. With steady and strong movements, Peter scaled the first few levels of the building.

There was a bit of a sting in his abdomen every time he pulled himself a bit further up the wall, but nothing he couldn't handle. He'd be fine. He was careful to stay as close to the wall as possible. People usually didn't look up to the level where he was climbing to. To the very top of the skyscrapers sure, that's what the tourists came to NYC for after all, but not down to where he was aiming at, the 25th level. And real New Yorkers, they certainly wouldn't crane their necks at all!

He was halfway up when there was a distinct vibration coming from his jacket's pocket. He cursed, locking his stronger right hand tight to the wall of the building and quickly reached for his phone.

Private Number.

Well, wasn't that just wonderful? He leveled his breathing and with that his nerves as best as he could and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"You said you were right outside the building."

"Mr. Stark, Sir... yes. Yes, I mean, I am. I just, erm... I ran into a bit of a problem and—"

"And you thought the best way to solve that problem would be by scaling the side of my building? In broad daylight?"

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't realize that—"

"That I would have installed sensors to monitor the outside of my building after you made it a habit to crawl up and down the exterior walls? Well, I'm glad I'm not predictable."

"I'm—"

"Get down the damn building, kid! And don't let anyone fucking see you!"

"Yes, Sir. The problem is I— Hello? Mr. Stark?"

Peter looked back at the screen of his phone.

0:34

Well, that was even shorter than the first call. Peter groaned. How the hell was he supposed to get through the front door without Mr. Marty-you-need-another-one-for-your-quota security guy out front? Maybe if he climbed a couple more stories Mr. Stark would just call back again and he could explain? But that would be going against a direct order. Probably not the best idea.

He pocketed his phone and quickly made his way back down to the pavement. He let his senses roam, tried to filter out all the big city noises and focus on if there were any prying eyes on him, but all he could sense was an unbalanced mix of everything. Everything around him was amplified and it was impossible for him to pick out a single impulse from the entangled mass. He still couldn't trust his senses. Even though Mr. Stark had said that he should thank them. That without his senses... that they might have saved him and without them, he might have— urgh. What did Stark know? He didn't even know what it was like! Sure, he was Iron Man and all, but that was a suit. He didn't know what it was like when something takes over when something changes. His senses were off. He broke them. Somehow... somehow something must have changed. He couldn't rely on them.

So when he reached the sidewalk, he kept his head down, eyes on the ground, hoping he had stayed unseen. He didn't waste any time and made it back to the main entrance as fast as he could. All he needed was another security guy guarding the entrance. That was all. There had to be more than one damn— oh. He had looked up and shot a quick glance in the direction of the door. He might have never recognized him if it hadn't been for that weekend at the Compound. He wasn't decked out in the kind of three-piece-suit that the public would know him in. The washed-out jeans, vintage AC/DC shirt, and a simple grey jacket made him look almost human. But that was definitely Mr. Stark, arms crossed staring daggers at him from across the street. Not even the one signature item he wore - the dark-colored sunglasses - could hide that stare. Peter jumped into action and was by his side in mere seconds.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. I was almost inside the building but they wouldn't let me through the do—woah!"

A large hand clasped the back of his jacket. He was actually too perplexed to react when he was pulled back away from Mr. Stark.

"Hey, bucko! I thought I told you to stay the hell away!" Peter blinked up into the face of the giant from before.

"Hey!" Mr. Stark had followed, arms now by his side and his face turned from annoyance into mild shock.

"Nothing to worry about, Sir. I'm on it," the guy said, blocking Peter from view.

"Yeah, you're on my intern, _bucko_." Mr. Stark stepped closer to them, reaching for Peter's arm and forcefully tore him out of the security guard's hold.

The guy had let go of Peter, eyes wide. "I... No. Sir, you're mistaken. Interns only come here on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Not this one," Mr. Stark snarled.

"Sir, he doesn't even have an access card! All interns were handed security ID cards to access the laboratory floors on the Tower. This is—" He reached out for Peter again, but Mr. Stark built himself up in front of him, then turned to Peter.

"Peter, do you have an access card?"

"I..." He looked right at Mr. Stark. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Stark knew very well that he hadn't. "I... I'm not..." Mr. Stark gave a subtle shake of his head and Peter jumped on it. "No. Nobody gave me an access card yet."

Mr. Stark turned back to the guy and threw up his hands as if the situation was all cleared up. "If he doesn't have an access card then let's go inside and issue one for him. Chop, chop!"

"Sir, that... I can't just hand out access cards. I need a directive from corporate to issue a new one."

"Look at me." Mr. Stark stood tall, stare fixed on the security guy. "How much more corporate do you think it gets?"

The dude just blinked at him, dumbfounded. "I... I don't—"

"Inside! Now!" Mr. Stark's voice was low but icy. He sent a quick look up and down the street, confirming that the little scene hadn't been noticed by anyone standing by.

The dude huffed, shot Peter an angry glance and then walked towards the front entrance.

"Come on, kid."

To say that Peter was stunned would have been the understatement of the month. And it's been quite a month.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark," he whispered to the man. "I really tried to get there on time but—"

Mr. Stark quickly cut him off. "Not now."

The giant walked ahead of them, swiftly opened the door and held it wide ajar for Mr. Stark and with another annoyed glance at Peter he kept it open even for him. The lobby was, well, huge. An atrium with multiple levels of open walkways and seating areas and on the back wall a whole league of elevators. They had walked about halfway into the lobby when they stopped at a large marble desk. The giant had already walked around it and furiously typed away on the keyboard in front of him. There were security barriers right next to them, blocking the way to the elevator.

Security guy sighed, shaking his head. "Sir, there's nothing I can do here. I can't just activate a security pass without the proper paperwork. And all the paperwork for the new interns was already processed two weeks ago."

"Just check the damn file. Peter Parker. The paperwork is there," Mr. Stark ordered.

"Sir, that is impo— oh." The guy typed some more and opened one of the drawers behind the desk. The rustling of a printer echoed through the otherwise quiet lobby. The guy cleared his throat and slapped a stack of papers on the desk in front of Peter. "Read that, then sign on the bottom of the last page." He slammed a pen on top of the stack of papers.

Peter's hands were still shaking with nerves as he reached for the stack and started to read.

"You gotta be kidding me, kid. Just sign the damn thing and let's go!"

Peter looked up at Mr. Stark, eyes wide and throat dry. "But—but Sir, what if—"

"I'll email you a copy. Come one."

"Al—alright. Yeah, okay." Quickly Peter pulled the last page from the stack and hastily put his signature on it.

"Perfect. Access card?" Mr. Stark's focus was back on his security guy, who handed him a black unmarked chip and a name tag that had Peter's name and, oh god, last year's yearbook picture on it. Where the hell did that come from? The man pressed both items into Peter's hand and guided him towards the security barrier.

All Peter could do was mumble a low "thank you" in the general direction of the security guard and then follow Mr. Stark to the elevator, that was already waiting for them. No sooner had he set both feet into the elevator car that the doors closed behind him and Mr. Stark let out a deep breath.

"Bring us up to the lab, FRI."

**_"Will do, Boss."_**

Peter busied himself with staring at his feet, head bowed low. Was this now the time that he was supposed to apologize? His eyes flickered up at Mr. Stark and he found the man staring straight at him. Peter's mouth fell open. He stared back, but not a single sound seemed to want to come over his lips. Mr. Stark's eyebrows shot up and he made a show of throwing up his arm, pulling back the sleeve of his jacket and glaring at his watch.

"It's 4:07 pm."

"I'm so sorry, Sir. I got here as fast as I could but then the guy wouldn't let me in and they were gonna arrest me and I don't—"

The elevator doors opened and once again, Peter lost the ability to form words. The lab was not just massive but shiny and brand new.

"Seriously, kid. Exactly why I send you a car! To avoid all that bullshit."

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't—" He quickly followed the man out of the elevator.

"It's fine. I get it. You went straight to the subway." Mr. Stark turned on his heels and stared at Peter. "You did take the subway, right? You didn't, like, swing your way here?"

"I... No, Sir. You..." Peter cleared his throat. "You still have my web-shooters."

"That's right." Mr. Stark took off his glasses and rubbed a hand across his face. He, wow, he looked like, well. A lot worse than he had on the weekend.

"You also told me, I'm not allowed to. So... yeah... no... I took the subway."

"Good." He opened one of the drawers on the workbench in front of him, shuffling through a bunch of loose electronic parts.

Peter bit his lip, his eyes still on the dark lines underneath Mr. Stark's eyes. "Sir, if—it this is a bad time, I could—"

"Not a bad time." With a thump, Mr. Stark placed his phone onto the workbench. He made a weird movement with his arm and the projection of a keyboard was pulled up right in front of him. Peter's jaw dropped as Mr. Stark started typing and two more screens popped up one displaying an array of folders, the other a string of code.

"I can't believe you tried to climb up my building. Again! What if someone saw you up there, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't... I didn't know what else to do. You were already mad because of your driver and I didn't—"

"You can't climb up buildings in Manhattan in broad daylight, Pete. Especially not mine." Mr. Stark put in a few commands, shaking his head as he did so.

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."

The phone in front of them flashed to life. Mr. Stark grabbed it, then held it out to Peter.

"Don't do it again. This is encrypted. My number is on there so you can reach me."

Peter blinked a couple of times, looked down to the phone, then back up to Mr. Stark's face. The man's eyebrows shot up expectantly. Peter shot forward and took the phone from his hand.

"I... thank you. Thank you, Sir."

"The number is for emergencies."

"I... I understand."

"You use an access code on this, no finger prints or anything else like that. Something only you know."

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

"No birthdays, no '12345678', no 'password', a completely random string of letters and numbers," he said, pointing at the phone, eyebrows still raised.

Peter did laugh at that. "Yes, Sir. Thank you."

"Alright then." Mr. Stark cracked his neck and stretched his arms. "I can send you to get coffee, right? I mean, you're officially an intern now. Interns get coffee."

Peter shrugged. "I mean, I've never made coffee before."

"You just push the little bottom next to where it says 'coffee' on the machine. I'm sure you'll manage." Mr. Stark pointed at the small adjacent kitchenette. "Get whatever you want for yourself. Then we'll look at your bandages before we start on the web fluid."

They had been in the lab for maybe an hour, not much longer. It had taken Peter a bit of time to get over the initial nervousness, but once the inspection of his wound had turned out to positively surprise Mr. Stark, Peter felt his nerves ebb away. It suddenly felt easier to focus again, his senses didn't spin all over the place. And once they had gotten to work it was easy to settle into a rhythm. He had brought his notebook, which held months of different web-fluid tests. He had already covered the most important characteristics that he had adjusted to his advantage but Stark was just as interested in the dead ends. The things that hadn't worked.

"You haven't really written much on the fluid reacting with the web-shooters." Mr. Stark had the notebook in hand, scanned a page, turned it, scanned the next one until he reached the end of Peter's notes.

"There has never really been a problem."

"Ah, you wrote that this one was easier to extract from the shooters than the others."

Peter looked over to Stark and checked what version he was on. "Yeah. I remember that one."

"So, was easier better or worse?"

"It felt almost slippery. I used way too much webbing with that one because it just slipped out of the shooters so easily."

"Would it be more efficient if you could better regulate the amount of fluid?"

Peter shrugged. "Maybe. It's just a matter of habit I guess. I could have tried to adjust the web-shooters so the handling would be more sensitive, react faster, but at the time it didn't seem efficient to do that."

Mr. Stark looked up at him. "Because you would have had to stay off the streets for a couple of days to make the adjustment?"

Peter looked away but smirked, pulling his shoulders up again. "I guess. Also if I couldn't have made it work, I'd have had to undo all the changes and, well. Yeah, I didn't really know how many days that might keep me from helping people out."

"Always the good of the people at heart." Mr. Stark took another sip off his 4th mug of coffee. "Well, well, we'll see about that. FRI, scan that page for me, will you."

**_"Right away, Boss."_**

He shoved the notebook into Peter's hand and a beam of turquoise lights moved up and down the book in his hands.

"Alright. We'll be trying out that one. I stocked up on the supplies you put down." He gestured to one of the walls. "FRIDAY, open panel C12. Go ahead kid, get out the stuff we need for this."

His notebook still in hand, Peter headed over to the wall. The panel had opened to three huge drawers full of all the chemical supplies he'd need for the web fluid. There was so much it, his chemistry teacher would kill for a stock like that.

_**"Sir, Captain Rogers is at the door, requesting entry."**_

Peter shot up, back straight, and only barely managed to hold onto the canister of Glycine in his hands. He stared at Mr. Stark then quickly turned to look at the windows. There was no way to open them though. Maybe if used something really heavy to break one of them. His ears were ringing.

"Pete, calm down." Mr. Stark had taken a couple of steps in his direction but had stopped. "FRIDAY, tell him to come back later."

Canister of Glycine still in hand, Peter clutched at it as if it would be of any use to him. He had nothing to defend himself, no suit, no web-shooters, only his senses, and his strength.

"Kid, he doesn't know who you are. Just calm down."

Peter's pulse was racing. "You—you didn't—you didn't call him?"

"Of course not." Mr. Stark stretched his arms out in what was supposed to be a soothing manner. "I do know where you live. I wouldn't risk my brand new lab to catch you off guard."

**_"Sir, Captain Rogers insists on seeing you right away. He says it's urgent."_**

"Urgh." Mr. Stark turned to stare at the elevator, then back at Peter. "Put that back and close the panel. Then get... wait, take this." He opened up a drawer underneath the workbench and pulled out a Starkpad. He unlocked it swiftly and pulled up the notes app. "Just sit over there and look busy." He pulled out another drawer and scattered a few tools and materials over the workbench. "Just don't look so suspicious. You're just an intern. You have paperwork."

"Right." Peter nodded, then quickly put everything back inside the panel and closed it before he picked up the tablet and walked over to the desk that Mr. Stark had pointed to at the other end of the room. He had just sat down in the chair when Mr. Stark called for FRIDAY to open the elevator doors for the Captain.

* * *

_(author's note: I know, it took me forever to write this, I promise to get better. (Have I said that before?)._  
_I've just finished shifting some things around in the story and planning out more things so everything will fit in the end._

_Thank you guys for sticking with the story and leaving lovely comments. 3)_


	19. Kids Love Me - Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 - Kids Love Me**

Tony picked up a piece of the random pile of parts that he had scattered all over his workbench. He quickly went to unscrew the first screw he could find. It wasn't like Rogers would be able to tell that the parts in front of him didn't belong to each other at all, some old armor, some old tablet, he might actually recognize the engine piece that lay smack in the middle of the heap, so Tony quickly put it back into the drawer.

The elevator doors buzzed open. At least he wasn't in full Captain America uniform. He had changed into jeans and a tight workout shirt. Tony wouldn't be surprised if he had actually jogged from the Compound to the Tower. His eyes went down to the piece of junk in his hand again.

"What up, Cap?"

Rogers stepped up all the way to Tony's workbench before he spoke up. "I was looking for you at the Compound. We need to talk."

"Can't Cap. Little busy. I can drop by the Compound later tonight."

"This is urgent."

"Then I'll drop by urgently. Tonight."

Rogers huffed and shifted his stance from one foot to the other. His voice was low and Tony tried to ignore the short looks that the Captain sent into the corner where Peter sat and made himself look busy typing on the tablet.

"There's a kid sitting in your lab, Tony," he said, his voice low.

"I'm aware."

"I mean, Nat mentioned an intern, but I thought... Did you get a kid in here just to prove a point?"

Tony rolled his eyes at him. "Seriously, Cap?"

Rogers had the good manners to look embarrassed by his own question. "Sorry, it's just... I've never seen you with an intern and this... This doesn't seem safe. You're usually so careful to keep your Iron Man technology out of other people's hands."

"That's not what we're working on. It might shock you, Cap, but the Avengers are not actually my day job. It's more of a hobby really."

"Don't be an ass."

Tony dropped his hands and both the screwdriver and the piece of tablet landed on the tabletop with a low bang. "I'm being an ass? You just accused me of dragging a kid off the street and into my lab to prove a point to Nat," he whispered completely ignoring the fact that Peter would likely be able to hear them either way. He could only hope that the kid was so paralyzed that he would try to drown out their voices.

"Right." Rogers bit his lip. Then he cleared his throat and called out, "Hi, there."

Tony swallowed deep and shot a quick look over his shoulder in Peter's direction, who had frozen stiff in his seat.

"The kid's working, Cap. Let him be."

Rogers frowned at him. "I'm just being polite." He looked back over to Peter. "Hi. I'm Steve."

Tony turned again and found the kid staring, mouth soundlessly gaping open. He cleared his throat again. "Listen, we're in the middle of—"

He turned to the Captain who had a brilliant smile plastered on his face, nodding encouragingly before he dropped his voice to interrupt Tony. "What's wrong with him? He looks freaked out. Did you like ground him or something?"

"What?" Tony whispered back out of reflex. "Of course not. Nothing's wrong with him."

"How you doing? Learning a lot?" Steve called out louder in Peter's direction.

Oh, this was so not how Tony wanted things to go. Peter was still cowering in his chair, spooked by the sheer presence of Captain America.

"Come on, Cap. You intimidate him."

"What? I don't. Kids love me."

"You're an Avenger."

"Exactly! And so are you."

"Yeah, but I'm a lot less impressive out of the Iron Man suit, while you are... well, look at you, Cap."

Rogers actually looked himself up and down. "I help people, Tony. I'm not a threat to anyone." Rogers shot another look over to Peter, who was still staring at the two of them, then another one at Tony. Trying to move his lips as little as possible he whispered in Tony's direction. "Are you sure that he'd alright? He looks really pale."

Tony groaned. "Hey kid, come and say Hi, will you."

Peter's mouth fell open all the way.

"It's fine," Rogers called and waved him over. "You don't have to be nervous."

He was only trying to be nice, Tony knew that. He just wanted to be a good guy. It's not like he could have known why Peter was trying to keep his distance. Slowly, the boy rose out of his chair and stalked over to them. Hands buried deep inside his hoodie's pockets, eyes anywhere but Rogers. He got closer but came to a stop a considerable length away from them.

"Hi there." Rogers tried again.

"Um... Hello."

"It's nice to meet you..." The Captain arched his brows in expectation.

"This is Peter," Tony added quickly.

"Ah, nice to meet you, Peter."

Rogers stretched his hand out for Peter to shake. The boy shot a glance over at Tony and Tony just shrugged and nudged his head towards Rogers. Peter stepped a little closer and shook the man's hand, eyes still lowered.

"Peter seems like a clever fellow. You can look after things for a bit, right son? I just gotta hijack Tony here for a few minutes."

_Oh nice try, Cap. _"It's Peter's first day, Steve. You suggesting I let a minor unattended in the lab on his first day? Legal would have a field day with me."

Rogers turned to face him. "10 minutes. 20 tops. Come on, we really need to talk about... you know. The thing we talked about before I left for..." Rogers' eyes shot over to the kid then back to Tony. "For you know where."

"You're giving me a headache, Cap. I'll be at the Compound at 8."

"How about this, Peter could go and get himself a soda or something. Take a little break?"

Peter's head shot up at that. His puppy eyes literally begging Tony to let him go and hide. That little traitor.

"Urgh. Fine. Closest cafeteria is on the 53rd floor. Don't forget your access card." Peter turned on his heel and headed for his backpack to retrieve his pass, then hurried to the elevator.

"Just a moment, Cap." Tony stepped up to Peter and lowered his voice out of earshot of Rogers. "You have the phone I gave you, yeah?" Peter nodded, eyes on the floor in front of him. "FRIDAY will let you know when to come back up. They'll scan your ID at the café. Just get whatever you want, alright?"

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, whatever."

Tony cleared his throat as the door to the elevator opened. He turned and stalked back towards Rogers, who called out a cheery "Bye, Peter."

"Bye... Bye, Mr. Rogers," Peter mumbled.

As soon as the doors closed, Rogers started with his speech. "Listen, I know you didn't like that we send you to the meeting with the city council on your own."

Tony let himself fall onto one of the sofas by the wall next to the kitchenette with a sigh. "What gave me away?"

"Come on, you know what we went to do was time crucial. We couldn't wait and neither could that debrief with the city." Rogers stepped closer to him.

"We're in the middle of dealing with the aftermath of a terror plot in Manhattan, one we almost botched and you guys fuck off to Switzerland. Come one, Steve. That was a bullshit move and you know it."

Rogers pursed his lips. "It was important."

"Yeah, to you. I get that you want to help your buddy, but you can't put your hobby above our responsibilities to the people—"

"It's not a hobby!" Rogers interjected.

"—the people in this town. This whole country really. We lose face as a team when it's just me who turns up to these things. And more often than not it's just me who turns up to those things!"

"That's not true and you know it. We've all been trying to help with the aftermath of those big fights."

"Oh yeah?" Tony sat up, arms braced on the sofa. "If I remember correctly after Ultron you stayed at the Compound, training."

Rogers huffed. "To be fair, Ultron was mostly on you, so really I don't think it's the responsibility of the team to do damage control in that case. We were busy prepping for—"

"You don't think it's the responsibility of the team to have my back?"

"That's not— Of course we have your back, Tony. Come on, you know that."

Tony shook his head and let himself fall back into the cushions. "Let's get this over with. What about the debrief do you urgently need to know?"

Rogers blinked at him, eyes his special shade of disappointed. "Don't do that."

"Do what, Steve?"

"Don't act like we don't care about you. We do. It just, sometimes... sometimes things are more complicated and we have to do things that are more pressing and we can't be everywhere all at once."

"Right." Tony bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed the bitchy response that was already forming in his mind. "Again, now that you made me stop working and had me throw my intern out of the room. What's the urgent information you need so I can get back to my job?"

Rogers crossed his arms and stared at the floor, head shaking from one side to the other.

"You really don't have to be like that."

"Excuse me?"

"You complain that we left you alone with this. Then I make it a priority to come and talk to you first thing after we get back and that's not good either! I just can't win with you."

Tony looked up at him, his jaw dropped open. "Are you serious right now? You ditch me, then you storm into my lab and demand that I make time for you right away."

Rogers huffed again. "Well, it's important."

"I know, which is why you should have been there in the first place," Tony snarled back. "A week later it's not a matter of life and death anymore."

The Captain had his arms crossed, eyes on the floor. Tony couldn't take it anymore, he stood up and walked into the kitchenette.

"Come on, Tony. Are you seriously just leaving while we're in the middle of this?"

Tony rolled his eyes, back still turned to Rogers. "I'm making coffee. You want one?"

"I..." Rogers shuffled from one foot to the other behind him. "I guess, yeah."

"Espresso? Coffee Crema? Americano? Machiatto? Cappuccino? Latte?" Tony turned and looked up at him, the Captain's face pulled into a moody grimace. Tony threw his hands up in defeat. "Sorry, of course. Americano. What was I thinking?"

"A latte would be fine." Rogers sighed. "Thank you."

They stood in silence, the machine's noises of grinding the beans and heating the water drowning out Tony's thoughts that were screaming at a louder than inside voice volume. He took Steve's latte as well as his own espresso and turned back to him, pushed the drink into his hand then sat back down.

After another moment of silence, he looked up to the Captain. "I mean most of this is in my notes, but Steve, things are getting hairy. There were at least 35 officials from all kinds of different government agencies, local, state and national levels at that meeting. They tried to paint us as boundaryless, as interfering where we have no jurisdiction. They are just waiting for us to make a mistake and that day we were damn close to a major fuck up. These people... We challenge their power. They are just waiting for a chance to take us out so they can get back to business as usual."

The other man took a deep breath, his tone painstakingly placatory. "Tony these people are civil servants who dedicate their lives to the wellbeing of—"

Tony almost spilled the hot espresso all over himself as he got up from his seat. "Damn it, Steve. Shut up and listen to what I'm telling you."

Rogers face twisted into a snarl. "Don't tell me to shut up, Tony!"

"Listen to me when I tell you, maybe not all of them, but a dangerous amount in high ranking positions is not out to protect the people. They are out for power and we challenge that power."

"That's..." Rogers sighed. "I'm sure there is the odd crooked politician who would—"

"Cap, you need to trust me on this."

"I always trust you!"

"No, you don't," Tony responded in a bitter tone he just couldn't help. "But that doesn't matter right now. I need you to hear me on this. We need to be careful. They are planting mistrust and doubt in our abilities and motives. And it's not just a couple of guys."

"Okay, I believe you." Rogers took a sip of his coffee, looking anywhere but at Tony.

"They think we're working with the Spiderling." He hadn't wanted to bring up Peter but he'd have to at some point and he stood a better chance in a one-on-one with Rogers than in a room with the whole team contradicting him. "They want us to reign him in."

Rogers did spill his latte at that. "I told you we need to find that guy! I told you he would be trouble."

"He saved our asses, Steve. I did the research. The guy usually only engages with petty crime and there's no reason to think he'd ever get near a scene where we're involved ever again. Not after Wilson chased him through the streets as a thank you for helping us out that first time around."

"He's a liability. We need to—"

"Did you actually listen to anything I just told you? They want us to fight amongst ourselves."

"He's not one of us!"

"The Spiderling is not a villain or even a questionable guy. They see him as a threat because he's different."

Rogers sat his cup down. "You don't know that."

Tony downed his espresso in one sip, the hot liquid burning his throat. He put down the cup, then threw his hand up in frustration. "Come on, Steve. He's just a kid."

Rogers' eyebrows knitted themselves together in a frown. "Just a kid?"

_Urgh, damn it, Stark. _"I mean, he's just a young guy. From what I can tell, from the mentions online, he'd been active for a few months. He's not important."

"If the government wants us to—"

Tony raised his voice again. "It's not important, Cap! We need to forget about all that shit and focus on the big picture. On the threat that is out there that only we can handle. That every damn agency would be completely outmatched by. _That's_ what's important."

"We can't ignore what is happening around us." Rogers' voice was low and serious, a clear contrast to Tony's agitation.

"I'm not saying we should, but we also need to prioritize the important things." He made an effort to bring his voice down, to sound reasonable and calm despite his level of frustration. "Like finding out where Bruce went. Like establishing active contact with the outside world. We know what's out there now."

"We suspect what's out there," Rogers retorted quietly.

"I saw what's out there. New York, Loki, the Tesseract, that Stone in Visions head. Those aren't coincidences. You just need to trust me on this."

Rogers nodded. "Fine. Alright. I hear you." He picked up the mug again and downed what was left of the content in one go. "We'll talk about this with the team. Tonight. 8 pm."

"Fine. I'll be there."

Rogers left his mug on the couch's adjacent table next to Tony's and walked over to the elevator without another word. FRIDAY, being the good girl that she was, had the car waiting and closed the doors as soon as the Captain had set foot into the elevator. Tony groaned. His elbows propped up on his thighs he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. This could have gone worse. Sure. It also could have gone better. He rubbed a hand across his eyes actively trying to get into a better headspace.

**_"Sir, the Captain left the building."_**

Tony didn't have it in him to answer her.

_I hear you. I trust you._

Did he though? Doubtful. Very doubtful. Tony could only hope that they wouldn't overrun him with their narrow mindedness in that meeting. He could probably do with some backup.

"FRI, send a message to Rhodey. Ask him if he can make it to the Compound till 8 tonight. I need him there." He took a look at his watch. 5:42 pm. "Tell him I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

**_"Sure thing, Boss."_**

"And then send a message to the kid. He can come back up." He stood up and grabbed both Rogers' mug and his own espresso cup and dumped them in the kitchenette.

**_"Peter Parker is on his way. Colonel Rhodes will try to make it by 8 pm."_**

"Thanks, girl."

Tony sighed as he remembered the mess on his workbench. He grabbed the tools and the random parts of different machines strewn about the tabletop and put them back into the drawers they belonged in. When the elevator door opened they revealed a nervous Peter Parker, wringing his own hands as he looked around the lab.

Tony swallowed his mood. "I mean, I told FRIDAY to tell you that he left."

"I know," he whispered.

"Just don't believe me?" He couldn't help but let the annoyance slip into his tone. He was really sick of people assuming that he was lying or even bending the truth when he had never been in the habit of lying. He never even had much reason to. Hell, he couldn't even lie about being Iron Man when SHIELD begged him to do so.

"I'm sorry. Of course, I do. It's just... I didn't... When he showed up, I just, I didn't know what to do and..." Peter stepped closer watching as Tony put away the last pieces from the workbench.

"Right." Tony didn't look up until the last part was back in its appointed place. The kid looked sad. This was ridiculous. They had actually gotten into a nice atmosphere before Rogers had shown up.

Peter didn't look up as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Sir. I just... I didn't want to tip him off and I didn't know if he—"

"Pete, just... it's okay." Tony ran a hand through his hair, rubbing his fingers against his skull. Not that that would do anything for his throbbing brain.

"I... I'm sorry. I'll get my stuff. I'm—"

"I already told you last weekend. You need to stop apologizing all the time, kid." The boy's face turned a light shade of crimson, but Tony opted to ignore that. "Just... yeah just get your stuff."

Tony turned back to the workbench. With a simple motion of his hand, he had FRIDAY pull up the holographic keyboard. A couple of lines of code later he had pulled up the project on the web fluid. When Peter's footsteps stopped at the other end of the table Tony looked up to find the boy had put on his jacket and shouldered his backpack. Tony's eyebrows arched almost disappearing under the slightly disheveled hair hanging onto his forehead.

"What.. what are you doing, Mr. Stark?" The kid's eyes had widened and focussed on his own handwriting that was now projected at a larger than human scale in the middle of the lab.

"I was getting back to what we were working on before Captain Fantastic strolled in and put a damper on things."

"Oh." Was all the boy had to say to that.

"What are _you_ doing? Unless you're hiding the Glycerin in your backpack that's not really the 'stuff' I thought you were gonna get."

The corners of the kid's mouth actually moved at that. He quickly discarded his backpack and jacket on the sofa next to the kitchenette and walked up to the wall panel that held the chemical ingredients Tony had bought. He bent down and after a little hesitation, he pushed then pulled at the panel then pushed again. When the panel stayed shut, Peter turned and threw a questioning look at him.

"If you ask nicely, I'm sure FRIDAY will help out."

The boy bit his lip. "FRIDAY, would you please open this panel here? The... the one with the ingredients for the web fluid, please?"

**_"It would be my pleasure, Peter."_**

The kid beamed as the door flew opened. He shot a little look in Tony's direction like he was trying to apologize for being too excited and it made Tony despise whoever had taught the boy that there was something wrong about expressing the unironic joy for the things that he so clearly loved to do.

Tony turned his back to the kid worried that the sadness he felt at whoever had messed with the kid's spirits would show too plainly. He bent down and collected a few test tubes and laboratory flasks from the bottom drawer. Packed with 5 or 6 different bottles at once Peter walked back over to Tony and carefully placed all of them onto the workbench.

"Alright then." Tony rubbed his hand together and cracked his neck. Enough moping. He needed to get his head in the game. He had an Avengers meeting coming up that night that already made his head spin. He might as well enjoy the kid showing off his stuff.

"Go ahead then, Pete. Walk me through it."

"Me?" The boy's eyes were on Tony, round and open.

"Well, duh. This is your formula, is it not?"

"I... yes. Yes, of course, it is."

Tony shrugged. "Well, show me."

The boy beamed again and reached for one of the flasks. He quickly checked his own notes projected now in front of them. It was a very different image than the Peter he had seen so far. The boy who despite his superior powers seemed unsure and timid most of the time. Apologetic and always afraid to offend. This looked a lot more like the Spider-Man in the youtube clips that Tony had binge-watched whenever he had been stuck on something in the lab over the last few days and needed to air out his mind.

Peter added one ingredient one after the other always careful to point out how this exact formula differed from the one he had currently used in the web-shooters. He used a little iron rod to stir the mix and after a bit of bubbling and sizzling, he pulled the rod out, a myriad of tiny long web strings clinging to it. Tony offered for them to make two more batches varying from the first one and Peter eagerly agreed.

"The problem was usually space. I couldn't do this at home and at my desk in school I only had so much space. It would have been difficult to have fresh batches side by side like this," Peter explained.

Tony's mouth gaped. "Wait, you did this at your desk? During school?"

"Yeah, well, sometimes in a free period if the room wasn't locked." He shrugged. "The school has an alarm so I could hardly break in after hours."

"Jeezes, kid..." Tony shook his head in disbelief. He stirred the third batch and then stretched his arm in a wide circle iron rod still in hand, pulling long strings of web in its wake.

Peter had his hands on the second batch. "The fresher the web fluid is the easier it is to fire it and the longer the web keeps its structural integrity. If it's too old it'll clog the shooters."

They bottled all three batched and Tony left them in one of the desks drawers labeled with different batch numbers.

The kid was ready to leave, jacket pulled on, backpack strapped to his back. He stood in the middle of the room, head bowed. What now? He'd been doing so good. The smallest things seemed to push the kid into a melancholy low.

Tony crossed his arms and leaned his back against the table. "What is it now?"

The boy's head shot up. "Huh?"

"You're brooding over something."

Peter shook his head. "I..." he looked down to his hands again then shrugged and held up his ID pass for the Tower. "This has my yearbook photo on it."

"It does."

Peter's hand had sunken back down and he lowered his eye at it.

"Is that a problem?" Tony asked, exaggerated cheerfulness swinging in his voice.

"No, I... I guess not. It's just..." He didn't look up, only turned the card over in his hand, spinning it back and forth. "Where the hell did you even get this?"

Tony's eyebrows shot up. It took a few short moments for Peter to look up at him and at once the boy's face fell from a soft puzzlement into mild shock. "Sorry, I mean..." He squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a couple of short shakes, then looked back at Tony eyes wide. "Where... where did you even get the photo?"

"Your school has a lousy firewall." Tony shrugged. "It's how I found you after you ditched me. I told you how I found your school record, didn't I?"

"Erm..." Peter scratched the side of his nose. "I don't... I guess. Maybe."

"When I came to your apartment."

Peter grimaced. "I do remember you coming to the apartment."

"Well, that's where I got it."

That school record had been a goldmine. Almost everything was in there: not just pictures but his address, birth certificate, social security number, information on his family, or what was left of it, health record - though that was outdated with the spider powers -, extracurriculars, his academic record as well as psychology reports by his teachers.

"That..." Peter looked down at the ground. "Isn't what's in there a bit... you know..."

"Private?" Tony offered.

The boy looked up at him. "I mean... yeah."

"Maybe you shouldn't have ditched me then?"

Peter lowered his eyes to the pass in his hand again.

"It is, Pete. Which is why I only looked at what I needed to find you."

Tony really hadn't looked at all of that in detail because a) he had other things to do and b) it did feel a bit like poking into someone's personal life and god knows his personal life had been poked at since he was born. The boy still had his eyes cast down.

"You understand why I had to look for you, right?" Tony tried to keep his voice soft without making it patronizing.

"Yeah, I guess..." Peter shrugged.

"I'll see you on Friday then."

"Yes, Sir."

"Take care of that cut of yours."

Peter's nose wrinkled as he screwed up his face at that.

"It's looking a lot better, kid. Just don't ignore it because you think it'll just heal on its own, alright?"

"I won't, Mr. Stark."

Tony breathed out a deep sigh. "Off you go then. You sure you don't want a car? It's pretty dark outside already."

"Mr. Stark, I can stop a car doing 40 miles per hour only with my hands." The kid gave a smug little smile at that and it seemed a note as good as to end the day on. Peter gave a short wave before he disappeared into the elevator. "Bye, Mr. Stark."

"Bye, kid," Tony called over his shoulder. "FRIDAY, time?"

**_"It's 7:12 pm, Sir."_**

That was enough time to get to the Compound, take a shower and then battle his way through that dreaded Avengers meeting. He put away the last few things on the workbench.

"You think he had a good time, FRI? Not sure if I'm any good at this mentoring thing."

**_"Why don't you ask Peter, Boss. He would seem to be a better person to judge your mentoring skills."_**

Tony waved her off and stalked towards the elevator. "Yeah, 'cause that's not desperate at all. Just get me upstairs, girl."

**_"As you wish, Boss."_**

A few minutes later on the 68th floor, Tony stepped onto the outside landing and only seconds later the Iron Man suit enclosed him completely.

* * *

_(author's note: _

_Thanks for reading, guys! Hope you enjoyed it. And thanks again for all the lovely comments and faves!_

_I decided that I'm going to try myself at NaNoWriMo this year, so fingers crossed that this November might get a good amount of updates. ;) At the end of next month, it'll be one year since I started writing this, which seems crazy because it feels more like a few months at best._

_P.S. As I mentioned last week, over the last month I have done a fair bit of outlining the details of what is to come and a particular error came to my attention. I had Peter tell Tony that he is 15 when Tony learns about his true identity after Peter got hurt. Turns out I had misplaced the scene where Peter tells Tony exactly that in the movies my own memory. I thought he had said that during their first meeting in Civil War, but no, it was during Homecoming. So just a head's up. I went back to Chapter 10 (I think) and changed that part. He is still 14 here. It doesn't make much difference in the story at this point, but I just wanted to mention it in case anyone went back and was confused about it ;D )_


	20. Resilience and Comfort - Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 - Resilience and Comfort**

The wind was lashing against the giant windows behind him. It howled like it was trying to tear the house apart brick by brick. It was pitch black around him. The darkness of the room should have been soothing, but there was a distinct throbbing just underneath the surface of his skull that didn't allow for any kind of relaxation. A throbbing that underlined that he shouldn't be lying there. He should be up and about. He should be doing shit. All these idiots were completely incompetent. He was the only one that could get shit done. And that's what he should go and do right that instance.

He tried to wrangle himself out of the couch cushions but was trapped by the fluffy surface like a turtle that had fallen onto its back. He trashed about, tried to wiggle back and forth spilling whiskey all over himself.

Right. He was still holding the glass. Fucking glass.

He tossed it across the room and as it hit the tiled floor of his living room it shattered into a million pieces. Urgh, fuck's sake! The crash made his head explode.

Maybe it wasn't his inner voice that had his brain throbbing like that. Maybe it was the booze. Well, only one remedy for that: more booze.

The table next to him was easier to get to and he blindly patted for the familiar feel of the bottle but got his hands on a glass instead. Of course, there was a second glass sitting right there on the table. Tony Stark always had a contingency plan for a drink. He fumbled around the table some more till he almost knocked over the whiskey bottle.

He poured the liquid into the glass. For the most part. Fuck the darkness. He could pour a dink in his sleep, plus only an imbecile would drink whiskey straight from the bottle. Let alone 4000 Dollar plus Whiskey. And if he took a sip right from it before he one-handedly tried to push the cork back onto the neck of the bottle, then nobody had to know. Just as he had dumped the bottle somewhere between the cushions the overhead lights lit up like the sun.

"Fuck, JARV'S, turn 'ff the fuckin' lights. Fuck's sake."

**_"Yes, Sir."_**

Darkness enclosed him once more. He closed his eyes for a moment, then brought his lips to the glass and took a deep gulp. Just that second the lights came back on again. Tony tried to swallow quickly but some of the liquor found its way into his windpipe by mistake. He doubled over coughing, his vocal cords burning, spilling whiskey all over himself as he shook from the coughs.

"Tony, what in the world..."

He couldn't stop coughing. His hand clawed at his throat, tears stung in his eyes. Then a series of forceful blows hit his back.

"Stop—" He coughed some more. "Pepper, stop—"

She stopped her assault on his back, one hand still held onto his arm.

"Oh my god, Tony. Are you alright? What is—"

"I..." he forced out another series of coughs, eyes slowly adjusting to the light in the room. "Fine. I... 'm fine."

Her hand let go of him. "Jeez, you reek."

"So?" He made an effort to suppress the burn of his lungs and glanced over to the glass in his hand instead. At least he hadn't spilled all of it, so he took another gulp.

"Tony, stop."

She reached for the glass but he was not that out of it yet. He held it as far away from her as he could manage, just like the responsible grown-up that he was.

"Tony, give it to me. This... You can't be serious with this. Come one now."

He shrugged. "What? No' like anyone's 'ere 'ho's gonna care."

"Stop it!"

He did glance over at her at that. She didn't sound mad. Usually when he fucked up - which, well, it had been a while - but usually she would be mad. This... no. She could keep her damn pity.

"Why, huh? Why shoul' I?" Not like anyone is gonna give a fuck.

"Tony, please. Please, just..." She rubbed a hand across her face. "Just give me the glass, come on."

He rolled his eyes at her, downed the rest of the whiskey with a couple of big swallows and held out the empty glass for her to take.

"That's super mature, Tony." She took the glass and placed it on the table out of his reach. "What's that? Did you smash a glass against the wall?"

"'round."

"Excuse me?"

"No' the 'all. Jus' the 'round."

He felt her eyes on him, judging him. She had no right to fucking judge him. Nobody had a right to fucking judge him. Least of all Pepper Potts.

"Jus' fuckin' go. 'm fine." He was. He was fucking fine. Peachy. Why wouldn't he be? Fucking police department had done all they could. What more was he supposed to get?

"Tony, please just let me help. I'll help you get back upstairs. You have to be at the office tomorrow morning. The annual assembly of the board is tomorrow and... Tony, we can't postpone it again. Please, I know this is difficult, but please, just.. just let me help you get to bed. And tomorrow... tomorrow is another day and we'll take it from there."

"Pfft." He reached for the bottle that was buried between the cushions. "Sen' Obi..." The old farts could assemble all they wanted. He didn't give a shit.

"No!" She did manage to rip the bottle out of his hand this time. "You gotta be kidding me, enough! I know you're hurting, but this... this isn't helping anyone! None of this is going to bring Aiden back, Tony. He... He'll—"

"Fuck 'ff, Potts. Jus' fuck 'ff."

* * *

###

* * *

Tony leaned back into the couch cushions, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a bottle of 50-year-old Glenglassaugh in the other. Bottled in 1965. 4200 Dollars apiece. This stuff was older than him. He pushed the bottle onto the table next to him. He really needed to get a new comfort brand. There were too many memories tied to this one. Memories he had no interest in reliving.

Rhodey had already left. He had a training exercise scheduled the next morning. Maybe Tony should have just flown back to the Tower, but there were still some rooms that were under construction on his floor and the crew would show up early, so he had stayed at the Compound after "the meeting" instead.

Honestly, while things could have gone better, they certainly could have gone worse. That much was true. Maybe there was a certain amount of remorse that they had left Tony to his own devices with the debrief by the city. Nobody screamed excessively, nobody acted irrationally, or more so than usual.

Maybe having Rhodey there had been the key, despite the jab from Wilson about Tony calling in the cavalry.

"FRI, how's my calculation coming together?"

**_"There are 7 minutes and 18 seconds left to process the adjustments, Sir."_**

The cavalry jab had been a bit of a low blow if he really thought about it, but maybe worst of all was that it had worked. Or was that best of all? He couldn't quite decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that the atmosphere had shifted so drastically compared to the meeting they had had right after the terror attack. Less blame-shifting, fewer raised voices. Maybe it was simply the time that had passed between the attack and the meeting. Maybe that had been enough to have calmed everyone's tempers. Maybe it hadn't been about Tony's cavalry at all.

"I think we all agree that things could have gone better that day," Rogers had said, eyes moving across the room. "We should have had a better grip on their contact with the civilians. We can't let them goat us into a hostage situation."

Tony's eyes were on the folder in front of him, his notes from the meeting with the authorities.

"Wanda and Vision were just about to engage. We could have handled things," Wilson threw in.

Natasha groaned from the seat on Tony's left. "Speculating about this after the fact will get us nowhere."

"I know that," Wilson bit back. "Still, we don't know—"

"That's right," Roger stopped him. "We don't know. What we do know is that they were playing our weakness against us, using human shields. We will have to look into a strategy to get civilians away from the scene more efficiently."

"But we did do that." Wilson chimed in again. "Wasn't that what Stark was doing?"

Tony looked up and found the eyes of the team squarely on himself. "I did."

"Well..." Wilson shrugged.

"I can't very well carry them all out of the way at once. I diverted traffic and showed them where—"

"Tony is right." He looked up at Rogers who had cut him off, a little stunned. "He can't be in two places at once and we should have circled them more efficiently, should have come at them from two sides."

_Well, would you look at that..._

"I could try to lift people out," Wanda offered.

"No," Rogers shook his head, his fingers drumming a random rhythm on the table in front of him. "You're the only one who can contain more dangerous elements of an attack. We needed you focussed on the vials. I will..." His fingers hammered against the table a couple more times before he stopped. "I will look into this. See how we can improve our effectiveness. Nat, how about the men we have in custody."

Natasha sat up in her chair. "I'm still working on the main guy, but the other two talked." She sighed, hands interlaced in front of her on the table. "They didn't help all that much though, other than confirming some of our intel. The operation was definitively tied to Crossbones and both have confirmed a trip to Africa. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed to know that Africa is a continent, not a country, so it's not gonna help us narrow down the location we need."

"What do we know about the larger HYDRA bases in Africa?" Rogers asked.

"Listen, I can't say all that much about this," Rhodey cleared his throat and send a look in Tony's direction that screamed Top Secret classified government business. "But one thing I'm just gonna put out there for you to... well, _think_ about: How do you guys know that Rumlow is still on HYDRA's payroll?"

"Rumlow is not with HYDRA anymore?" Wilson asked.

"I didn't say that," Rhodey said and nodded his head two times.

Tony bit his lip and shrugged. "He needs money. Makes sense that he would look for mercenary work to pay the bills."

Rogers shook his head. "HYDRA has always moonlighted as mercenaries. One doesn't necessarily cancel out the other."

Rhodey tilted his head at the Captain, the pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.

"What?" Rogers asked, slightly irritated. "They have. It's not just confirmed by the documents of the—"

"Steve, he's saying Rumlow no longer has his allegiances with HYDRA," Tony cut in. "He's saying he can't tell you why because clearance but we should look at Rumlow as an independent actor."

"I didn't say any of that. I just asked a question." Rhodey nodded his head in Tony's direction, conveying a silent _'This, thank you.'_

"You know, Rhodey, they have a well-respected community center over in Poughkeepsie. It's less than a 20-minute ride, less than 15 if Cap is driving and rumor has it that they have a very well frequented 'acting in the round' course there on Thursday nights." Nat leaned forward to look around Tony and sent Rhodey a beaming smile. "I feel like you would fit in perfectly."

Rhodey's features didn't move. "Thanks, Nat. Coming from you, that's a real compliment." He pulled up his lips into a wide, toothy, fake-ass smile.

Tony just rolled his eyes. "Alright, children. Africa? Anyone have anything more specific?"

At that point, he had taken out his phone and projected a map of Africa floating above the conference table. The team's discussions on balancing the validity of all the collected intel were generally the smoothest part of their meetings and the same was true at that one as well. It hadn't been until Wilson had brought the Spiderling back up, that things had gotten a little more heated.

"I'm telling you, Wilson, there is no benefit for us if we hunt the Spider-Man." Tony insisted again. In all honesty, even if he hadn't known what he did know about Peter, it was still the worst idea for them to flex their muscles and try to capture the Spiderling and force him into an interrogation.

"You just said that even the chief of the NYPD wants us to do exactly that," Wilson countered.

Tony took a deep breath, desperate to keep his cool. "Yes, and that's one of the reasons why we need to be careful."

Wilson opened his mouth to argue against that but Rogers gestured for him to stop. "Tony said, that there are vibes in those government agencies that want to pit us against each other."

"Come on, Rhodey. It's the NYPD for god's sake!" Wilson crossed his arms. Rhodey shrugged, his arms raised in a 'so what' kind of way.

"Even if I'm wrong with that suspicion," Tony started begrudgingly because he wasn't wrong. "Even if they're just worried about the Spider guy, there's no indication that he is a threat that we need to deal with and it's not in our interest to push him into opposing us. We've got more important issues at hand."

"So we just ignore that he butted into our mission?" Wilson called out.

Tony folded his hands in front of himself, eyes on Rogers, ignoring Wilson. "You wanted me to find him. I can do that. He'd not resurfaced since that night in Manhattan." That much was actually true. The kid had listened and stayed off the streets. Thank goodness. "When he pops back up, I'll find him and I'll go and talk to him."

Rogers frowned, fingers of his left hand back at it, drumming a steady rhythm on the table in front of him. "I don't know about this, Tony. We don't know this guy and we can't let people walk all over us without any consequences."

Tony swallowed the testy retort that was on the tip of his tongue. "There is an argument to be made that he didn't so much 'walk all over us' but helped us so Rumlow's crew didn't walk all over us."

"We could have absolutely managed without—" Wilson started again.

"Alright." Tony cut him off. "I get it. It would have been a cakewalk if he hadn't jumped it." Wilson just huffed in annoyance at that. "Either way, he's usually involved in stopping local petty crime. Let's not go overboard here. Let's just... I'll seek him out. I'll talk to him and if he doesn't give me the information we want, we can still hunt him down and bring him in."

Rogers had his eyes on Tony, elbow of his other arm resting on the table, chin propped up in his hand.

"It's not the worst idea," Natasha spoke up. "Tony has talked to him before and he'll be more agreeable on neutral ground." She shrugged, "And Tony's right. If he isn't, we can still change tactics."

"Mr. Stark brings up an important point." The team's attention turned to Vision. "It is a sound approach not to escalate the situation unless we have to. I could accompany Mr. Stark on his assignment."

Tony grimaced "Less of an assignment, more of an errand." Also, hell no. For all Tony knew Vision would scan the kid's vitals or something or worst case scenario analyze Tony's actual relation to the kid, maybe even read his mind if Vision got suspicious. Peter might have many talents, putting on an act was not one of them. "I don't know, buddy. We just decided not to bring out the big guns on the first visit."

"Very well." Vision nodded. "Maybe then Sam could accompany you. He can fly so it would be a—"

"Hey, whoa," Wilson called out "How is my name the first that comes to mind in the 'not the big guns' category."

"I am sorry, Sam. I did not mean any disrespect," Vision's tone was so dry, Tony sometimes wondered if he had mastered sarcasm after all and was just trolling all of them.

Tony was careful to keep the edge out of his own voice. "No offense, Wilson, but you chased the guy for how many blocks? Not really the atmosphere I was going for either."

"I'll go then."

Tony did freeze for a moment before he turned to look at Natasha.

She shrugged. "I was with you during the fight. Makes sense that I come with you on this."

"Right." Tony cleared his throat and forced an aura of unfazed indifference into his posture. Best case scenario had been Rhodey, but he wasn't on hand in NYC on short notice. Well, best case scenario would have been that Tony 'went' by himself. With Nat, he'd have to stage an actual rendezvous and she would be able to read the kid, would certainly try to analyze him, but she was still only human and he had to still seem reasonable. "Makes sense to me."

And that had been that. They had agreed and now Tony only had to figure out when the Spiderling would resurface. He'd have to give the kid some time to adjust to their new arrangement, to trust him. He couldn't risk that Peter tripped himself up in front of Natasha. Urgh, this would haunt him until it was dealt with. He took a sip of his Whiskey, his other was massaging small circles onto his temples.

_**"Sir, the process is complete. The result shows a 7.2% improvement in processing speed with a simultaneous reduction of battery usage of 2.1%"**_

"Damn, that's not even half the impact I was going for on battery life." He sighed. "Alright, shelf it for now and add it to the project list. How many entries does that make for this quarter?"

_**"The list contains 78 entries, Sir."**_

Tony took another sip of whiskey. "That's less than last quarter, right?"

**_"A decrease from last quarter of 4% but an increase to last year's first quarter of 8.6%"_**

"That's good enough. Format it and send it over to Potts' office."

**_"Would you like me to add a note, Sir?"_**

He brought the glass back to his lips and mulled that one over. She still hadn't answered his calls. He'd have to go down there to talk to her, he knew that much. But LA was not a day trip unless he took the suit which he wasn't supposed to outside of emergencies. NYC was one thing, cross country a different matter. This wasn't about them though. This was business and she was still his CEO.

"Projection FQ1 2016. Add the relation to last year and last quarter. Sign TS."

He emptied the glass. Bedtime.

* * *

##

* * *

It was 11:45 am. Another 30 minutes till lunchtime and Peter was starving. A constant these days. On a good day, his Spidey-powers had cranked up his metabolism and increased his calorie intake by up to 150%, the last week had been way worse. He had been eating constantly. All-day long. The thing was, he had never dealt with a serious injury before so he had nothing to compare it to, but he was absolutely certain that it would have to be connected to the energy his body needed to heal. He'd been sneaking power bars and snacks into class that he was discreetly munching on whenever he could, but he was in the middle of Mrs. Warren's class and she would definitely call him out on it. He could wait.

It was only 30 minutes till lunch break after all.

His eyes were resting on the notebook in front of him. His laptop was once again out of commission and since he'd been at the Tower the day before he hadn't really had the time to fix it. Not that he was going to complain. That trip to the Tower had been... Well, it had been all over the place, started pretty stressful and just as it had turned out to be kinda fun Captain America had shown up. Peter was still proud, that he hadn't lost his shit. At least not completely. Sure, he had skipped out of that room as soon as the opportunity presented itself. And he had felt a little guilty as he had been sitting in the cafeteria, 23 levels between him and that conversation Mr. Stark was having with Captain America. That really hadn't seemed like a conversation he had wanted to be in the middle of or even a silent bystander to. They had seemed so curt with each other and Peter had no idea why. And did he want to find out why? Not really. The Avengers were heroes. Disregarding that time that the Falcon had chased him through the streets of Manhattan and the general panic that paralyzed him whenever he thought of them now, they were still the Avengers. They were a team. Earths mightiest defenders.

In a fairer world, things should have gone so much differently. He would have shown up in that street in Manhattan. They would have been struggling with these bad guys just as they had and he would have saved the day. Helped them out and earned their approval. Their respect. They would have thanked him and invited him for a beer and he would have waved them off with a cool phrase.

_'I'll take a rain-check. Queens still needs me.'_

He cringed. Maybe not that. His pencil flew over the page in front of him drawing out the delicate lines of a certain shield with a big star in the center of it.

_'My shift's not over. Another day.'_

Urgh, no. Well, it would have come to him in the moment for sure. And then they would have thanked him for his help and he would have gone home.

But that's not what had happened. At all.

Dang, his stomach was acting up. He knew that little feeling. It was getting ready to growl at any moment. He shifted in his seat trying to suppress it but no, instead he had to fake a cough to cover the embarrassingly loud rumble that cried out from his stomach. He quickly got a piece of candy out of his coat pocket, carefully unwrapped it though every tiny rustle made his eyes fly up to the front of the class. Mrs. Warren had a strict no snacking policy and he could do without the lecture on it. This wouldn't be his first offense. He coughed again and as his hand flew up to his mouth he maneuvered the piece of candy into his mouth.

Ha, Mrs. Warren hadn't even turned around. He lost the ear to ear grin though when he smugly turned to his side and found MJ stare at him, eyebrows raised in open disapproval. Oops. Well, she wasn't going to tell. Hopefully. She might give him shit for it after class, but that he could live with.

The stealthy candy routine had dragged him completely out of his daydream. That was probably for the best. He studied the blackboard. Right, light refraction.

"Dispersion causes prisms and rainbows to divide white light into its constituent spectral colors," Mrs. Warren's voice rang from the front of the classroom.

He let himself be swept up by the teacher's explanations, took some notes and as the candy's sugar flooded his system it was easy to take in the details and notes on the subject. The added bonus was that time went by so much faster.

12:12 pm. Three minutes till lunch break. He was almost there.

"Ah, yes, one more thing," Mrs. Warren had shuffled through the papers on her desk. "Yesterday, we have received word from Stark Industries. I'm sure you all remember the presentation Ms. Potts gave on the company's new internship program. I know some of you applied through the school for one of those spots. Well, they informed us that they have taken on one of our students."

Peter had frozen in his seat. Damn, he had known that a couple of students from his AP physics class had applied, and a bunch of the seniors as well, and as great as that was for them, he really didn't want to run into any of them at the Tower by accident. He was sick of making up excuses.

"Some of you might have already heard it from Mr. Parker himself, but of course the school wants to officially congratulate you, Peter. We're all very proud."

Peter couldn't feel his face. He wasn't quite sure if he could usually feel his face. Maybe this was the status quo, but oh. _Oh._

He blinked at Mrs. Warren who led a round of applause in his honor. His gaze shifted to Flash who just stared at him, arms crossed, face drawn in puzzlement and mild disgust and then Peter winced as Ned shoved his shoulder.

"Dude, what?"

Peter looked at him. Oh, no. The ringing of the bell broke up the applause from his classmates.

"Mr. Parker, if you could just hang back for a minute," Mrs. Warren called out to him over the noise of the class grabbing their things and heading off to lunch.

He turned back to Ned, whose mouth was still open in shock.

"I... I'll see you at lunch," he mumbled in his best friend's direction before he quickly grabbed his stuff and walked up to the teacher's desk.

"Mr. Parker, congratulations!" Mrs. Warren stretched out her hand for Peter to shake and he automatically took it and slowly shook it, just staring at their hands, almost forgetting to let go. What the hell was he going to tell Ned?

"We were so surprised to hear the news. You must be very proud. I just... I wanted to..." Peter looked up at her as she cleared her throat, her eyes on the back of the room where the last students shuffled out of the room. "Peter, I'm just a little surprised. We have been trying to be as supportive as possible to students who wanted to apply for the program and I..." She looked over at him, her features soft, eyebrows knitted together. "You know I would have been happy to help you with this. You're a very bright young man and I just wanted to make sure that you know that you don't have to work through these things on your own. That's what your teachers are here for. I mean, that's why I'm here. To help."

Peter's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, no, of course." He tightened the hold on his backpack. "That's, Mrs. Warren I... I just... I just, erm..." Dang it, Mr. Stark, a head's up to this would have been nice! "I just didn't even think that I had a chance to get in at all. I mean, so many students applied and it just seemed a little silly to think that I... I mean of all the people who applied, you know... I mean, yeah. I just... I just thought I try and didn't even think this far ahead."

"I see." She looked a little sad. This was awful.

He scrambled for some kind of explanation that might make sense. "I mean, I just didn't want to waste your time with it, because, the odds, especially as a sophomore, were just so, you know, unrealistic."

"Peter, I would always be happy to help. Just, you know, for any future application, you can always come to me for a letter of recommendation."

Her concern was so sincere, he was a little touched. "Thank you, Mrs. Warren. That's... thank you."

"The email said that you pitched a project about clean energy. That sounds fascinating. Maybe you can tell the class about it at some point? When you've gotten a hang of things?"

"Erm... I... yeah..." Peter pressed out a smile. "Yeah, sure. That'd... that'd be great!"

"Alright then. I'll let you get to lunch. Congratulations again, Peter."

Peter nodded, thanked her again before he got out of there as fast as possible.

So, now the school knew. This was great. Just _great_. He was starving but he made a beeline for his locker instead of the lunch hall. Ned was waiting for him there and he would have questions. Many, many questions. And Peter had no answers to any of them. No answers he could share that was.

He quickly put in the combination to his locker. The door was a little stuck and he had to take a step back and shake the tension from his arms for a moment. His whole body was buzzing with adrenaline. This was what he got for not telling Ned sooner. For avoiding him ever since the little... little incident in Manhattan. He just didn't know how. How were you supposed to tell your best friend about the Stark internship that you had never applied for? Especially when Ned knew that he had never applied because Peter usually told him everything? Everything that didn't involve weird spider bites.

He rubbed his hands over his face.

_Breathe. Just breathe._ He could do this. He could think of something. Ned would believe him because, well, it was Ned. He'd never suspect that Peter was lying.

His heart stung at the thought. This was an awful thing to think. His eyes were closed, his hands had wandered to his ear and partially blocked the buzz of the students around him. His pulse was coming down. He'd just have to think this through. He could do this.

Another deep breath and he reached for the locker door, careful to just pull it loose where it was stuck, not to pull it off its hinges in his agitation. First things first, he unwrapped one of the power bars. There was still a whole stack in his locker and he'd be able to think a lot better if that rumble of his stomach was under control.

He had told May that he had not told _her_, because he hadn't known if he would even be accepted. That one wouldn't be enough with Ned. Unless he could convince him that he hadn't even known that he had gotten the internship until Mrs. Warren had just told them. No. That seemed a little out there. He took another bite, the sweet, sweet carbohydrates flooding his system. Food was the best thing. The very, very best thing.

He hadn't told Ned because, because, because...

"Hi, Penis!" Peter cringed as Flash's voice echoed through the hallway. "How the hell did you pull that stunt, huh?" Flash walked up to him, arms crossed, and looked him up and down in open disgust. "Do you really think anyone would buy that SI took you on? You of all people? You gonna make up some bullshit about meeting Tony Stark next?"

Peter wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. If he won't engage with Flash, he'd just go away. At some point. Or at least that's what all those leaflets said.

Flash was getting closer and it took all of Peter's self-control not to take a step back. "Probably just going to be 'too much work' again like your fake internship at Oscorp, right? Not enough time for a fancy internship, poor baby. Anything to get people's attention. You're shameless, Penis."

_Well, thank you, Flash._

Peter didn't even look at the guy as he pushed his locker shut and headed straight for the lunch hall. The line wasn't that long so he could quickly pick up a try with some fish fingers, fries and a small bowl with 3 apple slices. The school was really worried about healthy food, and the apple slices made all the difference. But he only cared that it was _food_ at this point. Tray in hand it wasn't hard to find Ned in their usual spot, quietly picking at his food.

"Hey..."

"Oh, hey Peter." He didn't look up at him. Okay, this was even worse than overexcited Ned.

"Listen, Ned. I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. It all just happened so quickly and then—" Peter stopped as Ned looked up at him, eyes open and vulnerable, mouth drawn in sadness.

He should tell him. He should just tell him everything right now. He could trust Ned. They had been best friends since, well, as long as he remembered living in Queens. This just sucked. All the lies, all the excuses. This wasn't him. It was gonna eat him up inside. One day he would just blurt something out and everything would come crashing down around him.

He took in a deep breath. No. No, he couldn't tell him. He couldn't. It was just... It wasn't safe. It wasn't safe for any of them to know. The more people knew the higher the risk that someone would find out who could use it against him. That everyone found out. Peter couldn't let that happen, not just for his own sake, but if people found out about his secret, that would put his family and friends in danger. He couldn't live with that, so it had to be this way. It had to be the lie. For now.

Peter let himself fall into the chair next to Ned.

"Why didn't you just tell me? You've been so weird, avoiding me all week. You didn't even answer my text on the weekend if you wanted to come over."

Peter kept his voice low, out of earshot of the other students. "I'm sorry, okay? Just... After that disaster with Oscorp, I just wanted to keep this to myself till I knew that things would work out. I didn't even know that they'd tell the school about it."

Ned shook his head, eyes still on his food. "But Oscorp was months ago."

"Yeah and I still haven't heard the end of it from Flash. I just... I'm just sick of it."

Ned did look up at that. "He's an ass."

"Yeah, he is," Peter agreed and then inhaled a few fries.

"So, you've really been to the Stark Industries building? Can you like... just walk in there now?"

Peter looked up at his friend. "They gave me an access pass and everything."

Ned's eyes went wide. "That's so cool!"

Peter shrugged, "I mean it's only valid for the times I'm actually scheduled to be there. I can't just like walk in there whenever I want."

"But still..."

"Yeah..."

"So cool! What are the labs like? Did you like take photos? They will probably not let you take photos, right? I mean, god, don't take photos, maybe they'll like kick you out if you do."

Peter did smile at that. "It's huge and they have just about everything you could even think of. It's crazy, I mean just compared to the robotics lab it's like another planet."

"Oh my god, you know I just realized when you're there you could like totally be in the same building as Tony Stark. I mean, I don't think the Avengers are there a lot anymore but just last week I saw this video..." Ned pulled out his phone and scrolled through the youtube app.

"I mean, I don't know about that..." Peter was going to go to hell for this. All the lies.

"Look at this." Ned had pulled up a video of the Manhattan skyline with what looked like an enormous shooting star flying across the night sky. "He's totally flying to the Tower there. I read that people have seen building crews walk in and out of it and this one blog said that there was a contractor who talked about like a crazy extension that Tony Stark wanted to build up there on the top floors because he had trashed the whole floor during like a super out of control party but that he was really stingy on paying for it and just gave the job to the company that rolled out the cheapest offer. That's crazy, right? Just imagine he's up there like telling people what walls to blow out while you're in his lab."

Peter shook his head. "Stark Industry's lab." That shooting Iron Man across the New York sky was a familiar sight. He had actually witnessed a very similar view just a couple of weeks ago. Just before his very first visit to Stark Tower.

"I mean, you'd think that of all the people in New York, Tony Stark would just pay the people he hired good money. He's a billionaire, he has like so much money."

Peter frowned. That didn't sound right at all. "What do you mean that he trashed the floor? I mean, he hasn't even really been there since the whole Ultron thing."

"Oh, you think? Is that what people are saying at the Tower? I mean, none of the Avengers have been in the city a lot, right? That would make sense. Wow, do you think like he was avoiding the Tower because he feels guilty? I mean, people say that he went crazy with Ultron, right?"

Peter looked up from his food. "That's not right. It can't have been Mr. Stark's fault. The Avengers work together on these things. They are a team." But were they still? Maybe there was something true about that. Tensions between Mr. Stark and Captain America had certainly been high. But no, it couldn't be. Mr. Stark wasn't that kind of guy. That kind of guy would have never helped Peter out like he had. He would have dropped him off at the next hospital or worse, the next precinct. Peter picked at his food, eyes on his plate.

"People have been speaking really well of Mr. Stark at the Tower. Like, that he is very generous and... and really looks out for people."

"Seriously, Penis?" Flash popped up behind him at the worst moment. "Already making shit up about your fake internship?"

"Get lost, Flash!" Ned spat over his shoulder.

"Nobody believes you, loser."

Peter kept his head down and sighed with relief as one of the teachers came close enough on his rounds through the lunch hall to scare Flash off.

"Just ignore him. He's just jealous," Ned said.

"Yeah, I know. He's just an ass."

"Oh hey, with that internship? Do you like get paid to work for them?"

Peter shook his head. "What? No, I mean, I'm just... you know, it's just like a learning experience kinda things."

Ned frowned. "Really? Didn't they say it's like really well funded? It's a bit shitty that he wouldn't pay his interns, right?"

Peter bit his lip. Oh shit, how well was the internship funded? Miss Potts had said something about grants for projects, right? "I mean, I can like eat in the cafeteria and just put it on the access card."

Ned's mouth fell open. "Wow, that's so cool!"

"And I think, I think they like fund research things."

"Wow, maybe they'll even let you see the arc reactor!"

Peter nodded, eyes on his plate. "Yeah... yeah, maybe."

* * *

####

* * *

_(author's note: Thanks as always for reading and the comments, folks!_

_NaNoWriMo is so far working out great for me and it's only day 4! ;)_  
_I really hope I can keep this faster pace for updates up for a few more weeks :D )_


	21. Project Sojourner - Chapter 21

**Chapter 21 - Project Sojourner**

Tony's Friday had been of his regular brand of hectic, the way his Fridays usually looked like. Last-minute questions and dead-end fluttering in from the R&D labs of things that should really be done before the weekend and people got stuck on and needed quick input for. So Tony jumped from one project to the next and never really had time to get into his own project. As soon as he had set foot into the Tower he had to deal with some final questions the building crew had and almost an hour later when he finally made it to the lab FRIDAY was ready to flood him with message requests.

It was past 3 pm by the time he had actually managed to work through the most pressing issues and got to breathe a little.

"Have we heard back from Potts at all, FRI?"

**_"She sent her regards for the detailed quarterly report around noon, Boss."_**

Tony rolled his eyes. "Detailed report my ass." He closed the last document concerning a microchip the LA branch was working on. "Alright, I'll look into more of those messages tonight. Just notify the remaining working-groups that they will have to wait till Monday unless they're in on the weekend."

**_"Right away, Sir."_**

He let out a deep breath and pressed the heels of his hands against his temples before he rubbed them across his eyes.

"Open up last night's version of the new operating system. Urgh, I need some coffee."

_**"I'm afraid I can't brew any coffee for you right now, Sir. The water tank needs to be refilled."**_

He shook his head in annoyance. "Didn't I do that like an hour ago?"

_**"No, Boss. I told you it needs refilling about an hour ago when you asked for coffee and you opted for an energy drink instead."**_

Right. Now that she mentioned it... He really needed to move Dum-E and U to the Tower.

"Alright then, just get me to section 5.2 C on the document for now."

He sat back down in his chair and blinked a couple of times before he focused on the projection in front of him. Something was still sucking out more battery than it should and it had to be display related. No other component could be that—

_**"Boss, Peter Parker has entered the building."**_

"What already? What time is it?"

_**"3:29 pm, Sir."**_

"Alright. I still need to finish this, but you can let him up."

He leaned back in his chair again. Of course, he had his day torpedoed by the most predictable onslaught of message requests. He had really wanted to get some more of this done so he'd have a clear head for the Sojourner project with the kid. He scanned the code, looking. Looking for something that looked like it was off. He'd know what it was as soon as he'd see it.

The elevator doors opened to the lab and Peter called out with a quite cheery "Hello, Mr. Stark."

Tony just waved in the boy's general direction and kept scanning the document. The shuffle of the kid's feet come to a halt just next to his workbench.

"I just need a couple few more minutes for this, kid. Can you go and put some water into the coffee maker?"

"Yeah, okay." He shuffled off towards the kitchenette and Tony could hear the kid's backpack and jacket rustle as he flung it onto the sofa.

This was not gonna work. He already knew when he opened the file that he wouldn't finish this before the kid showed up but he would have at least liked to have some new variables for FRIDAY to run while they were working on the suit.

"FRIDAY said you asked for coffee but she only made an espresso, so..."

Tony almost jumped out of his chair. "God, kid. Don't creep up on a man with a heart condition like that."

Peter stood right in front of him, the little cup protectively cradled in his hand. "You have a heart condition?"

Tony did look at him at that and grimaced before he waved off the comment. "I'm just being dramatic."

"Oh, okay." The boy pulled an apologetic face in return and held out the cup for Tony.

Tony's eyes flickered from the boy to the cup, but he just jerked his head at his workbench. "Just put it down on the table for now."

Peter nodded and quickly set it down next to him.

"Alright, FRI, just close it up. I'll have another look later on."

_**"Yes, Boss."**_

"Alright kid, how about you then?" Tony took the cup and threw back the hot dark liquid in one go, relishing in the sweet burn in his throat. "Got here alright?"

"You told my school." The words shot out of the boy like he'd been waiting for this all week.

Tony looked up from the espresso cup in his hand and frowned. "Excuse me?"

"My school, they know about the _'internship'_", he air-quoted. "My teacher told me you emailed them and then called me out on it in front of the whole class!" The kid's eyes were wide, face flushed and Tony was... confused.

"Called you out?"

"Well, she told everyone. The whole class."

And that was a bad thing because... he frowned at the kid. "First of all, I didn't email anyone."

"Well, they know and you told me to trust you and then you let me walk into—"

"Second of all..." Tony's eyebrows arched up until the boy fell silent. "All internships have to be co-signed by the school just like we needed the permission slip from your aunt. So yeah, I guess the school would know. I told you I added the records to the SI files and the school probably got notified in the process."

"Well, they all think I work for you now. Or, well, not all of them. But she told the whole class. So, most of them believe it."

"And lastly," he raised the volume of his voice to talk over Peter's rant. "I kinda fail to see what's so bad about your school knowing that you scored one of the most prestigious internships in the country."

The kid did stay quiet at that and lowered his eyes to the floor. Tony just shook his head, still processing the avalanche of words that had just hit him.

"And what do you mean, most of them believe it?"

Peter just shrugged.

"Well?"

"Well, the others think I'm lying about it."

"What?" Tony put the cup down on the workbench and took in the kid's apologetic shrug. "What kind of idiot thinks that you can lie about an internship after the school was notified by the company?"

"I mean, it doesn't even matter," Peter mumbles, eyes still not meeting Tony's. "It's just... a bit of a warning would have really been great."

"And what good would that have done?" He crossed his arms, studying the kid closely.

"I mean, then I could have told my friends or... or even my teacher. She was all hurt and confused about why I didn't come to her for help with the application. And..." The kid just shook his head and gnawed on his lip. "It just sucked, is all."

Tony sighed and got out of his chair. He gave Peter a couple of pats on the shoulder. "I would have warned you if I'd known that was gonna happen. I have no interest in any of this catching you off guard and exposing you, alright? I'm a little too tied up in all this to blow it up in my own face on purpose, kid."

Peter nodded and shot a quick look at him.

"Alright then." Tony gave the boy's back one last pat. "I do have something that's gonna brighten your mood. FRIDAY, open Project Sojourner 5A.1 for us."

_**"Right away, boss."**_

The kid frowned. "Sojourner... like the Mars rover?"

"Exactly like the Mars rover," Tony smirked.

The lab was immediately illuminated with the projection of the training wheel program Tony had put together for the Spider-suit, but his eyes weren't on the projection but on Peter. He couldn't help but smile when the boy's face went slack, his jaw opened more and more with every moment he looked up at the projection and his big brown eyes widened so much that Tony could actually make out a weak reflection of the projected plans in the kid's eyes.

"Not bad, huh?"

Peter's eyes moved over the plans his head slowly tilting in wonder. "I... This..."

Tony chuckled and then turned to face the plans as well. "Yeah, I know. I do have that effect on people."

"But this is..." Peter shook his head slowly from side to side. "When you said..."

"This will take a while, Pete. It's not a project that's done in a week."

"Ha!" Peter belted out.

"But you're still healing anyway and now that you're all happy and stunned, let me give you the damper that comes with this."

The kid's mouth slammed shut and whipped around to look at Tony, eyes still wide but filled with less wonder and more sudden alert.

"Now, don't freak out..."

"Oh no..." he gasped.

"...but after my meeting with the team on Wednesday..."

"No, no, no, no, no!" Peter threw his hands up in horror.

"...they decided that they don't want me to bring you in."

"No, I... wait, what?" His hands dropped slightly, his forehead drawn into a frown.

"Instead they want me to question you on why you were in Manhattan and tell you not to get involved in our missions without asking."

Peter blinked at him. "Oh, well." Tony could see the wheel turn in the kid's head. "That's... I mean, that's not—"

"Aaaand, they want me to bring the Black Widow to the _'interview'_", Tony added.

And that was where he lost him. "No, no way! You can't! She'll know! She's a freaking spy, she'll know right away and I can't, please, Mr. Stark, please, I mean we could, I don't know, I could—"

"Alright, Pete, take a breath." Tony grabbed him by the shoulders and made him sit down in his own chair. "The alternative would have been Wilson or Vision and Vision would have smelled the underaged pheromones on your head or something."

Peter scowled at him.

"Wilson might not be all that bright but he would have been the most likely to escalate the situation and I can't punch him in the face to give you time to skedaddle."

The kid did smirk at that. "You would punch the Falcon in the face?"

"To stop him from dragging you to Compound?" Tony shrugged. "I'd at least consider it."

Peter just shook his head and looked down onto his hands.

"Building the suit will take a few weeks."

"A few weeks?" The kid looked up at him, all the excitement blown away at once.

"Yes, a few weeks. This is not a weekend project and I do have a couple of other things on my plate as well."

"I can help though!"

"Oh, you better believe you will help. Still, we need a bit of time for this. I told the team I will monitor your movements and track you down when you pop up on the radar again."

Peter bit his lip. "So, the sooner I go out on patrol, the sooner you drag me to see the Black Widow."

"Natasha is not a danger to you, alright. She just wants to make sure you're not a threat and we have some time to get you accustomed to this plan, alright?"

The kid nodded. It was gonna be okay. Tony could get the suit done by mid-April and then squeeze another couple of weeks out of them when he would "calculate" the kid's "new routine" so they could "intercept" him. By then, things would have quieted down. Who knew, maybe they'd be occupied by who knew what by then and they'd all but forget about the kid.

"How about we put some work into your new suit then?"

Peter smirked and nodded. Yeah, they'd do alright working like this for a while.

##

Peter was spread out across his twin bed, lying on his back, legs propped up against the wall. His right hand had crawled underneath his shirt and had come to rest on the soft slightly raised skin of the scar tissue on his abdomen. His eyes were on the ceiling and his brain was doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. He was so damn bored. He couldn't even remember what he used to do with his afternoons before he became Spider-Man.

He'd done his homework. He had fixed what had turned out to be another loose connection on his laptop's memory slots. He had put some moisturizing wound-salve-stuff on the scar tissue of his stab wound to ease the strain and he had been staring at the ceiling for 30 minutes trying to remember what it felt like to do a backflip in midair while swinging from one street side to the other.

He missed it so much it hurt. Every cell in his body ached for that freedom and fun. Oh god, all the fun. The sense of accomplishment he had felt after a successful patrol.

He rubbed both hands across his face. He had to get his mind off of this. He was 5 minutes away from pulling on a black sweater, scarf, and hat and just going for it. And he couldn't. He really, really couldn't. Mr. Stark would kill him. Probably literally. Peter would be dead and gone before he even saw it coming especially...

He groaned into the palms of his hands.

Especially with his senses still acting out. He had climbed about 12 stories on the outside of Stark Tower about a week ago on the first day of his internship which had been dumb, to begin with without even a mask to hide his face but man, that had felt good. Until it hadn't. Until his senses had gone haywire. And he didn't know why. It wasn't an isolated incidence either. He'd felt a similar sense of overwhelming sensory input on some of the subway rides over to Manhattan. He was almost certain that is got worse when the pain or his anxiety had spiked. That must be what triggered his sensory overload, what ran down his defenses and left his senses bare to the world. Like the first 10 days after the spider bite, that had been torture. Worse even than that night of the, well, the incident. He could only hope that nothing would ever be as bad as those first days had been.

But he hadn't been in much pain when he had climbed the Tower. Or in the subway on the ride over and still... It wasn't that he was scared. He wasn't. Point was, he couldn't trust his senses right now. Something was triggering him and he would have to figure out what. Preferably when he wasn't hanging off a building.

The other day he had gotten so bad he had actually sneaked out of his window and just scaled a couple of walls of the buildings a couple of blocks from their apartment. It was a miserable rainy day and 2 am so nobody was around, but it had been liberating to feel the air rush through his hair again, the thrill the long drop send through his body before he landed with both feet on the ground. He had only jumped from somewhere between the second and third story, and no flips or tricks or other artistic figures were involved. He really wasn't scared, just... just cautious. But still, even that had been fun.

The only thing that kind of took his mind of things were the hours he spent in the workshop with Mr. Stark. He did miss the crime-fighting and he felt guilty that he wasn't helping people, but there was also this dread creeping up on him that once Mr. Stark was done with the suit, his time in that lab might be over.

##

Anytime Tony would get fixed on a new project the days in the lab could easily just fade into each other. Usually, Pepper would be able to pull him out of a working spree, but well, that ship had sailed. But while he'd always been accustomed to short periods of sleep and extended periods of tinkering those extended shifts would usually take their toll on him after some time. But with that boy walking in and out of his lab every other day, Tony was forced to somewhat keep his shit together and look like an adult. The things the kid had been working on in the lab quickly turned from Spider-Man stuff into actual SI projects. Tony had originally really only wanted to keep an eye on the teenage vigilante to keep him from killing himself and causing trouble in the city. It had never occurred to Tony that the _'internship'_ would turn into an actual internship. They had worked on Peter's suit and sure that had been something Tony had expected to be in the cards when he sought the kid out, though he had quite successfully kept the kid out of some of the more intricate features he was designing for the Spider-suit. The safety stuff, the extras for different forms of combat, active and reactive features, the advanced coding... It quickly turned into such a complex system that Peter would have a hard time coordinating all the things that Tony had in mind for the suit when he would actually be using it.

This was probably the kind of thing people meant when they talked about dads going overboard with his sons' science fair projects. Not that Tony—

He shook the thought from his head. Nope, not going there.

Suit. Complexity. There was an easy-ish fix and that was programming an AI to help Peter control the suit. It wouldn't have to have the complex structure that FRIDAY had, just enough to guide the boy. But even Tony Stark didn't program an independent AI in a week. He needed the suit to implement it so the kid had to wait for his first outing with the new suit. Not that he knew what exactly he was waiting for. He would have access to the training wheel system and every other underlying feature would either operate automatically or have to wait till he trusted Peter with it. There was a time and place for when you could tell a 14-year-old kid exactly what the enhanced features on his superhero suit were and that time would be when the kid turned 21. Maybe 18. Or at least 16. Well, Tony would have to see how things went.

That's where the SI projects had come in to keep the boy's mind off what exactly was taking so long. Peter had shown up Wednesdays and Fridays in the first couple of weeks and when Tony had run out of things for the boy to tinker with on the Spider-suit on that Friday, he had requested Peter's help on the next Starkpad prototype Tony had been working on instead. And, jeez, the boy was into that techy stuff. It had been almost 10 pm by the time Tony had insisted that his driver would bring Peter home, Spider-senses or not. They were doing okay on school nights, but the Friday after that it was even past 11 pm by the time Tony thought to check his watch.

"Damn it, your Aunt is going to kill me!" Tony groaned. "FRIDAY, get me the car. I want Larry to drive him."

"But Mr. Stark, we're not done," Peter moaned. "You just said, it's only like an hour, two tops and I really want to see how you implement a flat cable this tiny with the graphic card and still stretch it all the way to the processor!"

"It'll be almost midnight by the time Larry drops you off, Pete! You should have been home three hours ago."

"Please, Sir! I could... I mean..." The dark brown puppy eyes were more effective than his Spider-senses. "My Aunt really won't mind and you don't have to worry at all. You don't have to keep your driver up because of me either. I totally know how to get home and it's not like it gets dark in Manhattan anyway. And we're almost done."

Tony scratched the back of his neck. It'd be so much easier if having the kid in the lab wasn't such a ridiculous stress relief. He never usually tolerated other people in his space, especially the lab. The only exception had been Bruce. There was probably an argument to be made that the break from Pepper had left Tony craving a certain amount of human interaction. As much as he could tell himself that he preferred his workshop as a solitary work environment, there had been a powerful constant with him for over a decade of his adult life wherever he went. Pepper.

Was Tony actually comparing the Spiderling's companionship to the place that Pepper had in his heart? God, that was equal parts creepy and weird for a grown man to think about. He looked up at the boy, who still refused to get his stuff, a tight grip on the .3 hex screwdriver in his hand.

Oh, whatever.

"You call your Aunt!" Tony pointed a finger at him, eyes narrowed.

The boy bit his lip. "I kinda texted her like 2 hours ago."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "So, she already knows that you're working late? She is gonna send me a really long letter of complaint, right? Or put the cops on me for breaking child labor laws."

Peter scowled at him. "I... I kinda told her that I'm at my friend Ned's house," he said.

"Peter!" At least the boy had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

"What? She's happy I'm safe. And I am."

Tony just sent him a look because, right, Iron Man's workshop was a super safe place for a kid to hang out at.

"She thinks I'm spending the night at Ned's and I can just climb in the window when I get home and sleep in on a Saturday morning while she leaves early for work. It's a win-win for everyone."

"Sure, as long as CPS doesn't find out and has me arrested."

Peter turned to him, pointing the screwdriver at him in a way too adult manner. "You know, it's really not fair that I would have to go and miss out on learning things just because someone somewhere decided how long someone my age can be asked to pay attention or not. I'm totally fine concentrating for more than a couple of hours."

Tony narrowed his eyes on him. "That's so not what child labor laws are about."

Peter just shrugged and leaned over the workbench, eyes on the interior life of the table they had been working on. "For labor laws to apply you'd actually have to pay me first," he mumbled.

Tony's jaw dropped. "That's quite the attitude on you, young man!"

The boy just smirked and send an almost shy glance in Tony's direction. "I'm not wrong though, am I." But then he just shrugged, eyes back on the project. "I'm sorry, I was just kidding. I mean, it's fine. It's not like I earned my place in the internship program anyway. It'd not be fair compared to everyone else who—"

"You kidding me, right?"

Peter turned and looked at him, his face sporting a distinct apologetic earnestly. "I know what kind of effort students have to put into their applications to get accepted into this program, Mr. Stark. I mean, it's not like this is the real—" He gave his head a short but forceful shake. "I've already learned so much. I don't... I didn't mean to sound like I'm complaining."

"Pete, I'm building you a multimillion-dollar crime-fighting suit. If you pool every cent every single intern makes in this building for a whole year or two probably five it wouldn't—"

"I know. I know. It's just..." He shook his head again. "I know. Thank you."

Tony sighed. "It's not gonna be much longer. There's still a few... It has to be perfect before you can use it. I can't have it fail when you're swinging from one building to the nest."

"I know, Mr. Stark." Peter tapped the rounded end of the screwdriver on the metallic surface of the workshop a couple of times. "I just... I understand."

"You miss it."

Peter nodded. "I do."

"Soon, alright?"

The boy had nodded. The fact that they would have to schedule their meeting with Natasha as soon as Peter regularly went out on patrol again also helped to keep the heat off of Tony to finish faster. It wasn't like he was stalling on finishing it. He wasn't. He wasn't in a rush to have the kid hunt down burglars either though.

Peter watched every single move Tony made attaching the last few elements onto the tablet's motherboard. Tony did let him solder on the last couple of connections, guiding him to the right spots, pointing out where to be careful, not that the boy had needed it. He was a natural.

It was 3 am by the time Tony told FRIDAY to close off the last note on the project. Peter had spent the last hour or so nestled on the couch by the kitchenette, legs drawn up to his chest. He'd been nodding off in his seat while they documented the internal cabling of the tablet, but was outright denying that he was even a little bit tired.

"Really, Mr. Stark," the boy had insisted. He had really, really just closed his eyes very briefly to visualize and remember the work they had done. He wasn't tired at all. Yeah, right... Tony had suggested they move to the sofa for some tea and note-taking instead. 5 minutes later after Tony had fetched two pots of tea from the kitchenette, he had found the kid fast asleep on the couch and had simply moved back to his desk to finish the last of the documentation.

This wasn't normal. This wasn't him. He was getting attached. He was getting attached in a way he shouldn't be.

He crouched down next to the couch and softly shook his shoulder.

"Come on, Pete. This is no place to spend the night. Your back would kill you in the morning."

Peter rolled to the side and gave a big yawn, eyes still closed. "Back problems are for old people, Mr. Stark."

Tony chuckled. "I'm serious, come on. The guest room upstairs is a lot more comfortable."

"Wait..." The boy opened his eyes and blinked against the bright lights of the lab. "The guest room?"

"Come on, now. You can head home tomorrow."

He put away the last of his things while the kid still seemed to need a couple of minutes to brace himself for the walk from the couch to his bed for the night.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, Pete?"

"Why did you call it 'Project Sojourner'?"

Tony frowned. "You already know that. You... you understood the reference right away."

"The Mars rover?"

Tony took the new Starkpad prototype and locked it into one of the wall panels.

"Yeah, the Mars rover."

"But... but why?"

He walked back over to the sofa and held out his hand to help the drowsy kid off the couch.

"Pathfinder's little sidekick. Come on now."

They got onto the elevator and Peter squinted against the bright light.

"Dim it down to 60%, FRI," Tony called out to the AI.

"Thanks," the kid mumbled. "So..." he rubbed a hand across his face and didn't even try to hide a wide yawn. "So, I'm your little sidekick?"

Tony turned towards him and looked him up and down. "I mean you're little."

"Pfft..." Peter followed him out of the elevator into the penthouse.

"And you're definitely not the main act."

"I can stop a car with only my hands, Mr. Stark."

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, you mentioned that. Room's down there, second door on the right. Ask FRIDAY if you need anything."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," the boy mumbled and staggered down the hallway. "Night..."

"Night, Pete," Tony whispered.

The remodel had been completed a couple of weeks prior and - pathetically - the kid was the first one staying over since. Tony didn't really want to think too hard on what that said about his miserable social life. But what else was to be expected if he sent his Friday nights in the lab with the kid.

This wouldn't do. Another week and the Spider-suit would be finished and then Peter would spend his nights on patrol again. Tony really needed to get a life.

As he lay in bed, eyes on the dark ceiling above him, his thoughts just wouldn't stop spiraling.

"FRI, let me know if the kid wanders around the penthouse."

**_"Of course, Boss."_**

"And FRIDAY, run new analytics on every piece of information stored in AES03 subfolder 'all the shit' on my private server. Then list every police report, every complaint to CPS or local authorities that involves kidnapping, child abuse, child endangerment or child trafficking from 2005 to today and cross-reference it with all the information we already have."

**_"Very well, Sir. Where do you want me to file the results?"_**

Tony closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Keep it in AES03, new folder 'last one'."


	22. April 19th, Everything - Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 - April 19th, Everything**

Mondays always had a weird vibe to them. Even before Peter had started his secret Spider-Man career, Mondays had always been weird. The mix of the fresh start into a new week dampened by the long school schedule filled almost entirely with absolutely overrated subjects like Spanish or Social Studies and, of course, PE. Sure, there was the tiny bright spot of the physics class in the middle of all of the boring stuff, but suffering through PE more than balanced the scale, tipped it toward sucking really. He hadn't been a fan of PE even before the bite though for a completely different reason.

Back then his body had been so weak that every single task in that class had left him feeling like a waste of space. Like he couldn't even do the simplest task. But faking his uselessness on the rope or during sit-ups now seemed even worse. He always had to be on guard not to just do something ridiculously supernatural, catching a ball that spun in his direction at such a speed that it would be unreasonable for Peter to catch it, jumping too high, turning too fast by instinct. Or anything else that a scrawny 14-year-old nerd shouldn't be able to pull off.

Yeah, Mondays sucked. But then Mondays were also academic decathlon days. Of all the extracurriculars he used to attend, decathlon was now the only one he hadn't quit yet.

"Are you really not gonna come back to robotics, Peter?" Ned whispered.

Peter shook his head, eyes on the questions in front of him.

"I mean, I get that the lab at the Tower must be so much better but we always had so much fun working on that stuff together."

"I know, Ned. I just don't have the time right now," Peter whispered back.

That was partially true. He had been fading out the afternoon activities over the last couple of weeks, had spent more and more time at the Tower. Those hours in the workshop where he could just tinker with Mr. Stark, where nobody yelled any insults at him, where he didn't have to pretend to be somebody else. Like the other day when Mr. Stark had put his water glass down at a weird angle and the glass had tumbled. The water almost spilled over the whole battery of microchips they had laid out and taken notes on. But Peter had just reached out and caught the glass with ease. Mr. Stark had cracked a joke and they had just moved on. Kept working. No surprised glances, no awkwardness that Peter would later analyze in detail, wondering if he had given himself away. Mr. Stark just knew and it wasn't a big deal anymore.

"Well, how about you come over tomorrow after your thing with May for an hour or so. I've got the basic bones of the Death Star knocked out already and we said that we wanted to do it together."

"I can't, Ned. I have this project at the Tower that I need to finish tomorrow to meet the deadline. I'll probably be there until 7, at least." Peter crossed off the last couple of questions on the sheet in front of him, a selection of 5 remaining to be added to the pool of topics in preparations for nationals. Just in time for MJ popped up behind them, demanding their results.

"But... but do you go to the Tower on Tuesdays now as well? And what about May? Don't you guys have your day tomorrow? Don't you usually go down to the pier and—"

"Oh shit!" He threw his hands up and covered his face.

"Mr. Parker, please keep your enthusiasm in check," Mr. Harrington called out to him.

"Sorry, Sir," Peter mumbled and sank further down into his chair. Holy shit, how could he? How could he have not remembered?

"Dude, did you forget?"

Peter didn't turn to look at Ned. He didn't need to see his friend's eyes widened in shock, the distinct disbelieve in his voice was shameful enough.

Ned scooted closer to him, his voice a low whisper. "Did you tell May you're not gonna go?"

"I didn't forget, okay?" He spat out. "I just... I must have mixed up... I must have—"

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Peter. Just tell them and ask to postpone the deadline to another day. I'm sure they'd understand."

Peter shook his head. "I can't. I said I would finish that project. I can't... I can't make up excuses just because a commitment I made doesn't fit into my social calendar." He took out his phone and pulled up May's contact. His old, battered knock-off android phone. He could hardly show up at school with a brand new Stark phone.

"It's not an excuse, it's like... a family emergency thingy."

"It's not an emergency, Ned."

He pulled up the text message history between himself and his Aunt.

Running a little late.

Don't wait for me, I ate at Ned's.

Sorry, can't make dinner, I'm a little stuck with this thing.

I'm going over to Ned's after school. See you tonight.

Staying at Ned's for the night.

A whole list of excuses. A whole list of lies and he'd only been working with Mr. Stark for a month. Well, the suit would be ready soon. It must be. Mr. Stark had told him he was almost done and then who knew when he would get to work in the lab again. Or if Mr. Stark would invite him back at all. He needed to soak up as much experience as the man would let him until then.

Hi, about tomorrow. I know we usually go down to the pier, but I have this deadline I need to meet with the project I'm working on and—

"Peter, you with us?"

His face heated up at Liz's voice. He hid his phone underneath the table and just nodded at her. "Yeah, sure."

"Alright, so this practice round is only about a third of the categories that were selected for nationals," she continued and as soon as her attention was elsewhere, Peter had his eyes back on his phone.

—and I just wanted to—

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second before he deleted the last couple of words.

—and I think it's just not gonna work out tomorrow but we can always go another day.

Sent.

"Dude, are you really not gonna do?"

Peter shrugged. "What does it matter if we do this tomorrow or on the weekend?"

"I mean, I guess." Ned scratched the side of his face, awkwardly looking back and forth between Peter and different random parts of the room.

By instinct, Peter looked at his phone again and saw the ominous one-liner, May's reply.

We'll talk about it tonight.

Great. Just great.

##

Tony had always been a great worker. An exceptional worker. He had been developing his own tech before most kids celebrated their first day of school. His ability to filter out everything around him and focus only on the one thing in front of him made his work so exceptional. Sure he could run in circles around the tiniest problems drowning out everything else until they were solved. But that was what made the results so perfect. The tiny, tiny hiccup with that was that his brain just couldn't be trained into recognizing a deadline as anything more than a distraction that had to ignored with all the rest of the useless noise. He just couldn't help it. The projects were done when he deemed them to be done and that was that. Discussion over.

Then about a month ago this amazing thing had happened. He had basically bullied this Spider-kid to work with him so Tony could make sure the boy didn't go out and get himself killed but what had happened then—

Oh god, he already sounded like one of those viral stories the kid seemed to have an endless supply of.

And nobody could believe what happened then.

What had happened was that this kid that he had almost literally picked off of the streets - fine the stone floor of his penthouse balcony - this little stray he had taken in had streamlined his workflow. The kid helped with the odd task and finished some things while Tony was occupied by other projects or request but it wasn't the second pair of hands that had made this all go so much fast. The kid was like some magic elixir that just drew Tony's focus right to where it should be. It was only April 19th and with the new microchip he was implementing and the new exterior the kid was bending into the right fit, they would finish the amount of work today that Tony had managed to deliver in the whole month of March. And March had been a good month.

Or he assumed they'd still meet that goal today. If Tony would be able to concentrate on that microchip in front of him, because there was something that this super amazing brain of his couldn't seem to filter out: the noise of almost violent banging of metal on metal that came from Peter's workbench just behind him. Repeated, violent banging.

Tony blew out a deep breath, eyebrows raised. "Do you need help with that?"

"No, I got it," Peter mumbled.

Tony shook himself, then pulled his focus back to the core of the Starkpad on the tabletop in front of him. He didn't even get to re-aim the soldering bolt to the microchip he was just about to connect when the banging from Peter's workstation made him once again stop in his tracks in bafflement.

"You sure you don't need a hand?"

"I can get a fucking screw out of the damn thing on my own, thank you," Peter spit out.

Tony looked up from the workbench into the empty space in front of him, stunned into silence. Had he just heard that right?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn't... I shouldn't have said that. I... I didn't mean it like that."

Tony spun around. The boy was bent over the desk just a few feet away from him, his back distinctly turned to Tony. "Something bothering you?"

"No."

Tony raised his eyebrows in doubt. "So, you're just in a teenage mad-at-the-world kind of phase?"

Peter let his hands fall onto the top of the workbench, the tools in his hands crashing onto the surface with a loud clang. Tony crossed his arms, staring at the kid.

"I'm just not in the mood to chat." Peter picked up the screwdriver again, relentlessly picking at one of the connectors.

Tony just blinked at him in confusion. "That's a first. Maybe include the profanities into your non-chatting mood."

Teenagers. What did he know? He could play that game of emotional blackmail too. Hell, he invented that game. He shook the strain from his arms and positioned himself back in front of his project, soldering bolt in hand, his own back now pointedly turned to the kid.

"Fine. I get it. You still don't trust me."

Peter let out an exhausted groan. "It's not that."

Tony shrugged, eyes still on his project as the boy behind him shuffled from one foot to the other.

"It's not what you think."

Was it ever.

"Girl trouble?" Tony asked innocently,

"Oh my god..."

"Boy trouble?"

"Seriously, just stop. It's not..." The Spiderling stopped talking and groaned again before he continued. "My Aunt asked me to meet her today after school. She wanted me to postpone today's workshop session."

"Oh?" Tony straightened up and turned at last, eyes on the kid who was still heavily leaning on his workstation. He had been hogging a ridiculous amount of the kid's time. He should have really reigned in the hours before this.

"It's... it's the anniversary of my parents' accident. She... Usually, we go to put down like... flowers or something."

Tony frowned. Wait, his parents' accident?

"Shit, Pete, why didn't you just tell me?" He did his best to keep the edge out of his voice. What the hell did the kid think of him? "We could have just rescheduled."

"I didn't want to reschedule. I want to work on this." He indicated the project right in front of him.

"You could have come by after. Or tomorrow."

"I didn't—" Peter sighed and put the tools down again, this time a little gentler than before. "I hate it, okay? I don't understand what the point is. I don't need to stare at a random spot on the water somewhere to remember them. I can remember them just fine."

Tony stayed quiet. This was definitely not what he had expected and he was way out of his comfort zone. He should absolutely not engage the kid on that kind of emotional baggage. Not under any circumstances.

Oh, fuck it.

"Do you? Do you remember them?" Tony asked, careful not to let too much sympathy sink into his voice. The kid didn't want his pity. That much was clear.

"Of course I do," he hissed at Tony. "They were my parents."

"Pete, come on..." Tony sighed, scratching his head. He was way out of his depth here. He hadn't even known that the kid knew who his "real" parents were, it sure hadn't been in the file Tony had hacked, let alone the crucial clue that they were dead and how they had died. Tony was usually busy enough trying to sort out his own shit, definitely not qualified to deal with teenage angst about dead parents. Sure, he was kind of an expert in the dead-parents-department, but he was absolutely not gonna go there.

"Just... I really don't want to talk about this," Peter said.

"Alright. That's fine. I was just wondering if I did something and you're pissed at me or..." Tony bit his lip. "Listen, if you don't want to go, that's fine. We can just keep working. If you do want to go, you should. I'm not gonna stop you."

"I'm not pissed at you!" The Spiderling didn't even look at him. Maybe Tony should send him back home but then he couldn't blame the kid for looking for some distractions on a date like that.

"Well... alright then. Great." Tony turned back to his desk and mumbled a low "could have fooled me..." under his breath.

"I am NOT. Can you just drop it?!"

The kid's enhanced hearing was the bane of Tony's existence. Only second to his big mouth. He turned, ready to surrender and just drop the whole thing.

"Alright, look, I didn't mean to—"

"I don't give a fuck what you meant by it. I told you to drop it!"

The kid was red in the face, eyes deep dark oceans of anger, fists balled. His words hit Tony with an unexpected force. He straightened his back eyes on the boy.

"Hey, that's enough. You get to be pissed off, that your parents are dead. You don't get to scream at me for it, alright? You have a problem, we can talk about that. But we're not doing teenage mood swings in here, understood?"

"Well, fuck this then." The kid dropped the screwdriver onto the workbench, then crossed the room and grabbed his backpack.

All Tony could do for the moment was stand there, open-mouthed somewhere between shock and amazement. The kid had just cursed him out. Like, right to his face. Twice. What the hell was... Just as Peter was about to reach the elevator, Tony cleared his throat.

"Er, FRIDAY, lockdown lab."

The room darkened at once as titanium barriers came down and covered the window front as well as the elevator door. Then the overhead lighting brightened and illuminated every corner of the room.

"Lockdown complete."

"What..." The boy flinched back from the door before he turned and stared at Tony, eyes fiery and wet. "You said I could go, so I'm going!" He screwed up his face and rubbed at his temple.

"Not like that you're not." Forehead furrowed, Tony stepped closer to the still kept his distance.

"I just wanna leave!" The kid's face twitching in anger or was that pain?

"I can see that, but you're not in control and you have superhuman strength. Honestly not comfortable with you in the streets like that. How about you calm down and we just talk about—"

"I don't want to talk! LET ME OUT!"

Tony's heart gave a painful squeeze in reaction to the pure despair swinging in the kid's voice. The boy turned and banged his fist against the titanium barrier that covered the elevator shaft. For a moment, Tony was worried that the kid's strength might dent the titanium, that he might be stronger than Tony realized or even worse hurt himself, but there was no heart in those swings. After a couple of them, the boy's hand just flew down and covered his mouth instead. The muffled sobs pushed Tony into action at last. He did walk over to the kid but still stayed a couple of feet away. The hand that covered the boy's mouth moved up over his eyes instead and he slumped forward, braced himself against the barrier when his other hand started pounding against the side of his head.

"Pete, stop that. What on earth—"

"It's too much. Too much." He groaned and sobbed, both hands now covering his eyes then his right drummed against his head again.

"Tell me what to do, Pete. I don't know..." Holy shit. This was a fucking nightmare. "I don't know how to help you."

"Too much... just... turn it off."

Turn it off? What— Oh. "FRIDAY, lights to 20%."

The room fell into darkness. Not total darkness but Tony's eyes would need a little bit of time to get used to the low lighting.

"Lights at 20%, Sir."

He took another step towards the boy. "That better, Pete?"

The boy had stilled, his breathing shallow and erratic, but not as desperate and pained.

"I didn't—I didn't want this. I didn't want to do this. I just—"

The kid stood there, his back turned to Tony. One hand on the barrier, heavily leaning against it. His whole torso was heaving with forceful breaths. But as restless as the boy was it didn't seem like he was having a panic attack and Tony didn't want to overstep, didn't want to trigger whatever this had just been. Whatever had just happened to the boy. It took a few moments before Peter pushed himself off the titanium wall and turned around towards Tony, head bowed low. Even in the darkness, Tony could make out how puffy and pleading the eyes were that turned to him after another couple of deep breaths. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't—I didn't mean that. I didn't want to do that."

Tony did step forward then and grabbed the kid's shoulder, squeezed it gently. The boy shook with silent sobs muffled by his own hand, his head had fallen back down to his chest. This was pure agony, to see him hurting like this. What was he supposed to do? This wasn't Tony's area of expertise. He didn't want to overwhelm the kid, didn't want to rebuff him either. Tentatively, his hand gave Peter's shoulder a soft pull and that was all the encouragement the boy needed to step closer to him and fling his arms around Tony's torso.

"You're alright, buddy." Tony's arms slowly wrapped themselves around the boy's small frame, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness were locked on the sweaty handprints and tears the kid had left on the metal surface of the barrier. "Just calm down for me, okay? You're alright."

The kid shook with every breath, whispering "sorry"s and "I didn't mean to"s over and over again against Tony's chest. All Tony could do was hold him, take deep breaths and tell the Spiderling how everything would be alright.

Like he'd know. Like Tony had any authority to tell him that things would get better. That it would get easier. That he would be fine. Tony didn't know that. How could he know?

14\. The boy was only 14. So much younger than Tony had been when he had lost his own parents. Something he had miserably failed to deal with even though he had been an adult. Legally at least. But there was nothing to be done about it. The kid's parents were gone. A finality that Tony knew all too well. He had been pretty sure that Peter was aware of his situation. After all, he still called his adoptive mother "Aunt May" instead of "mom", no matter how young he had been when he had been adopted. The amended birth certificate was part of Peter's school file, but Tony had no idea how Peter even knew his real parents and how he knew what had happened to them. An accident, apparently.

He rested his cheek against the kid's head, his hair tickling Tony's nose. The boy's breathing was getting steadier, but his arms were still wrapped around Tony like a spider monkey. Tony swallowed hard. He couldn't do this. It wasn't his place. The kid's past was none of his business.

What was his business was the kid's present. He'd taken on that responsibility like the fool he was so he had to step up.

He carefully untangled Peter's arms from his body, grabbed him by the shoulders and slowly pulled him away from himself. The kid's hand shot up and he wiped the tears from his face, eyes still glued to the floor. Tony's right hand cupped his face, made him turn his head slightly down, cradled in Tony's hand. His left brushed the hair out of the kid's face and then softly probed the side of it.

"Does your head hurt?" His voice was low and he made an effort to keep the tone dry.

"Yeah..." the kid whispered. "Just... yeah, a bit." Tony's hands stilled at once. "Not... not when you do that. Just... just generally."

"Generally as in all the time?" That would not be a good sign.

"No just... sometimes. Today. Not... not always."

Tony's thumb rubbed back and forth across the kid's temple to the middle of his forehead and back, pressure low but consistent. "You hit yourself and not too gently, kid."

"Yeah." His eyes had fallen shut and his head rested heavily on Tony's hand.

"Why did you do that?"

"I... it wouldn't stop... I... I couldn't... I couldn't..."

Tony frowned. "What wouldn't stop, Pete?"

"It's..." The boy took a couple of deep breaths, his chest heavily rising and falling and for a moment there Tony thought he was about to pass out. "It's my senses."

The kid didn't move a muscle. He just stood there, eyes closed, arms dangling by his side as if all that was keeping him upright was his head resting in Tony's hand. Tony's other hand was drawing large circles across the kid's forehead, focusing on the spot where Peter had hit himself, apparently to make his body stop whatever it was that it had done.

"Does this help?"

"Mmmh. Yeah."

"What happened with your senses, buddy? What happened?"

"Mmmh." The kid pulled up his shoulders with a shudder. He twitched and goosebumps popped up on the skin underneath Tony's fingers. Tony could just about stop the gasp that was building in his throat as he watched the hairs on Peter's arm stand like a wave and then settle back down a few moments later. "They're dialed all the way... all the way to 11."

"Just now?"

"No. No, all the time. They're at 11... all the time."

"But it only hurts sometimes?"

"Mmmh... yeah. Sometimes. Sometimes it's like... like they're exposed. Like a nerve. And then... and then I feel it."

"You feel what, buddy?"

"Everything."

Tony tried to slow his thoughts.

Deep breaths. Calm down.

Exposed like a nerve. He had heard that one before.

"Can you walk, kid? Think you can make it to the couch?"

The boy's head twitched and he opened his eyes at last. "Yeah. Yeah, alright."

He started off faster than Tony was prepared for. He just lifted his head from Tony's hand, his gaze drifted to the sofa and then he was off.

"Woah, now, hold up, kid!" Tony slung his arm around him and got a hold of Peter's lower arm in an attempt to hold him upright but the kid appeared to be fine. He walked a straight line right for the couch and then fell into the cushions.

"'m fine." Peter waved him off. "Just, I'm sorry. I think... I think I'm fine now."

Tony had the kid stay on the couch and went to the kitchen. He got a cup of tea. Herbal and hot. He pushed the pot into Peter's hands and sat down next to him. The kid was quiet now, eyes on the cup. Where was he even gonna start to unravel all of this?

"It's not gonna happen again, Sir. I'm... I'm so sorry. I... I promise I'm not—"

"Remember what we said about promising things, kid?" He shot a quick glance over to the boy, who still had his eyes on the tea, head bowed low.

"You said not to promise you things I couldn't keep."

Tony nodded. "Do you know what just happened there? Why your... your senses—why you reacted the way you did?"

The kid's head sank a little lower if that was possible. "No... no, I... I'm sorry, I don't know what—"

"And if you don't know," Tony started a little louder, talking over him. "If you don't know what caused you or—or your senses to freak out like that, then do you think you should promise that it won't happen again?"

"No," the Spiderling whispered.

Tony nodded slowly. He let the silence settle between them, waited for the kid to take the next step. Waited for him to know what the next step would be. Tony cast his eyes up to the ceiling slowly blew out a deep breath before he spoke up again.

"So, now what?"

Peter ran a shaky hand over his eyes and ran his fingers up and down the bridge of his nose a couple of times. "I... I don't know, Sir."

Tony sighed. "Come on, kid. You're in trouble. You don't know how to deal with it. What do you do?"

The boy's fingers played along on the rim of the teacup and he gave his head a little shake before he shot a look from under his lashes in Tony's direction.

"Pete, you ask for help." He turned his head in Tony's direction at last and his wet eyes met Tony's. Tony just pursed his lips and dramatically rolled his eyes. "I don't know, maybe if you think really hard you might be able to think of someone you know who might know a thing or two about out of control super-human abilities."

"You're... you're gonna help me?" The kid blinked his wet lashes at him.

Tony's lung deflated at the look of utter hopeful loss on the kid's face. Wasn't that what he had been doing all along? Was he really this shitty at this whole mentor thing that the kid didn't realize that this was exactly the problem Tony would help him with?

"Yeah, Pete. Of course, I'll help you."

The kid bit his lip and looked away from him. "How... how can you even help me with this?"

"We analyze how often this has happened. When. Where. If there were any correlating factors. Then we formulate a hypothesis and test out solutions." Tony shrugged. "Or in other words we just science the shit out of this."

Peter snorted at that and wiped his hand across his face a couple of times before he shot a small smile in Tony's direction. "You're really into Mars, aren't you?" He quickly looked down at the cup of tea in his hand and took a large sip.

Tony couldn't help but smirk. "Hey, I'm a fan of mostly every time the government spent a lot of money to save Matt Damon."

The kid did laugh at that and Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder. He did have an ace in his pocket to get the kid's spirits back up. A little incentive.

"I actually had this little thing planned for today, for when we were done with those two projects we wanted to finish. But... I mean, I guess under the circumstances I'm not sure..."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "You... you had a little thing planned?"

"Yeah, just the general fit of this thing I wanted you to test out."

The kid sat up straight, eyes wide. "You... you're done? You're done with it?"

"Not done done. A couple of kinks to iron out, no pun intended, but I thought it might be time to do a short test run." Peter gasped and Tony quickly added. "In a very controlled environment."

"Oh... oh my god. Please, Mr. Stark. Please, I'll be so careful."

Tony bit his lip, thinking. "Is your Aunt at work tomorrow afternoon?"

"What?" Peter shook his head and frowned before he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, she works late on Wednesdays."

Tony mulled that over. "Alright. We test the fit today and you can jump around the lap with it for a bit." The kid's eyes positively radiated at that. "But, I want you back here tomorrow, alright?" Peter nodded before Tony had even finished the sentence. "And till tomorrow I want you to take notes on every single time these senses of your's have been acting up, alright?"

The kid's smile faded a bit. "Yeah, okay."

"We need to figure out how you can control them, Pete. You need to be able to reign yourself in, to be in control when you go back out there."

The kid's eyes dropped for a moment, but then he just nodded.

Tony got up from the sofa and strolled over to the far off wall. "Hey, you think you'll be alright if I turn the lab back into its regular friendly non-bunker look?"

He turned and found the kid smiling again. "Yeah," Peter shrugged. "I think that should be fine."

Tony gave him a thumbs up and turned back towards the wall.

"Alright, FRI, you heard Spider-Man. Cancel the lockdown protocol and then open panel 6B for me."

"Right away, boss."

##

There was something about spring that Tony couldn't quite put his finger on. Even from up there as he stood at the window front of his workshop in the Tower, more than 700 feet above the city, he could just tell. You couldn't smell the blooming magnolias from up there. No buzzing bees, no birds chirping happily away, none of those tacky telltale signs nature liked to slap everyone in the face with. Still, there was an urgency to the vibe of the city, a cheerful excitement of life awakening all over the place that traveled through Manhattan's concrete jungle up to the sky. All the way up to where Tony was leaning against the cold glass of the window looking down on all of them with their chipper attitude.

He flipped his phone back and forth in his hand, eyes on the people below him. Not that there were any details to be made out from up there.

Pepper Potts had called him.

She had called and he hadn't answered because fuck her sending him nothing but one-worded notes for over a month and then calling him out of the blue. He hadn't even really done anything to deserve the way she had been freezing him out. He had tried again and again. He had tried to call. He had tried to make appointments in LA but for some reason, everybody in R&D at HQ was suddenly totally fine without him. They would usually fall over each other to have him visit their workstations. But in the past weeks, they suddenly were all super fine without him there. This was Potts' doing. He knew that and she knew that he knew that.

Weeks of brief generic messages and then she called without so much as a warning. He had stared at the incoming call on his phone for what had felt like minutes until FRIDAY had taken a message.

Call me.

Pfft. Yeah right. It was 10:30 am in LA. What could be so urgent that she called him during morning office hours?

Call me.

Fat chance. He flipped his phone, again and again, rotating it in his hand. He should call her back. She was his CEO. He should be a grown-up about this and just call her back. That would show her.

"FRIDAY, remind me to call Potts tonight, 10 pm."

"Will do, Boss."

He still had a full day ahead of himself. The session the day before had gone a little different than what Tony had expected and he hadn't finished the project he thought they'd get done. Instead... Well, instead he had to dive a little deeper into his mentor role than he had ever expected to. Than he had ever wanted to. But the kid was his responsibility now. He brought that on himself that night he had decided to rather indulge the vigilante dreams of a 14-year-old instead of doing the grown-up thing of dropping him off at a hospital, informing his guardian and offering help to deal with the authorities. No, he had dived right into a bottomless pool of new problems like the reckless genius billionaire philanthropist he was. Maybe he should leave the genius up for—

"Sir, Miss Potts is on the line."

His blood ran cold. A second call from Potts within a window of under 10 minutes. He pulled his phone from his pocket and answered the call without another thought.

"Pepper, what's wrong?"

"Who the hell is Peter Parker?"

Tony's jaw dropped to the floor.

Ohhh, whomp, whomp.

* * *

##

* * *

_(author's note: _

_Thank you all again for reading and of course for the comments and favoriting the story! Hope you enjoyed this one as well. I know, this is a particularly slow burn, but I'm glad so many of you are sticking with it.)_


	23. Letting Things Go - Chapter 23

**Chapter 23 - Letting Things Go**

"Tony, who the hell is Peter Parker?"

His hand shot up and roughly rubbed across his temple. "Potts, I heard you the first time you asked."

"Then answer me. I've seen the hours, Tony. What is going on?"

His eyes went up to the ceiling, narrowing on one of the cameras up there. FRIDAY had better not screwed him over on this. He swiped his arm in the familiar pattern and started up the projection of his server's filesystem.

"Potts, you're the one who told me the foundation would need my personal involvement to be meaningful and I agreed, so what exactly is the issue here?"

Tony pulled up the Towers file system, went to human resources and scrolled through the names. Peter Parker, right where he had put it.

"You have an intern in your lab two days a week who spends all his hours in Towers either in your lab and at the cafeteria!"

He skimmed Peter's logged hours for the last weeks. No stays in the lab that exceeded three hours. No logs of the trips to his private floor. No school day that had Peter stay later than 7 pm. Good, so at least FRIDAY hadn't openly defied his order and kept Peter's extra hours off the books.

"So? What is your issue here, Potts? You don't want the kid to go to the cafeteria? I know you've always been pushy with me but usually, it was to get me to _take_ a break not—"

"Why do you have a 14-year-old kid in your lab, Tony?"

He had to tread carefully here. One wrong step and she'd latch onto it. "Because he's an intern?"

"You don't like interns."

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't want me to work with the interns?"

"Have you worked with any other interns?"

He rolled his eyes. "No."

"What are you doing with this one then?"

"I like this one, okay?"

"Tony..." She sighed and he could picture her as if she was right in front of him, head braced in one of her hands, her thumb rubbing across the skin between her eyebrows trying to flatten out the wrinkles he was giving her.

"Are you complaining about my numbers? About my productivity?"

"No, I—"

"Then I'm not sure why you called me to yell at me about this! You think there's someone else in the Tower who could teach him more than I could, huh? You wanna call Peter and ask him if he'd rather spend some of his hours being mentored by someone else?"

"Being mentored?"

Urgh. There it was. He had better not let her sink her teeth into that one. "You know what I mean."

"I'm sure the kid is thrilled to hang out in Iron Man's workshop."

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing, Potts? "

"The kids are there to learn, not to entertain you in the lab."

"Thanks, dear, your faith in me as a professional engineer is humbling."

"Tony—"

"I'm not up to anything other than getting my stuff done and putting my weight behind the September foundation. Like we discussed."

He was going to go to hell for this but they probably had a spot on hold for him anyway. He couldn't tell her. Pepper would freak and he couldn't give the kid away. Not now. At least she'd have a legit reason to be pissed at him concerning the Spider-Kid if she ever found out.

"This is not what we discussed," she said, voice low but powerful. "Sometimes you seem to forget that I know you, Tony. I know you better than anyone, better than you know yourself. I know your struggling with this, but—"

"Stop psycho-analyzing me, Potts. I'm not interested in your pity," he growled into the receiver.

"I don't— That's not what—"

"You're the one who left, Pepper. You wanted us to stick to the professional side of this relationship, then fucking act like it."He closed his eyes and centered himself. No. No, he wasn't playing. "If you think it's in the kid's best interest to spend some of his time at the Tower interning for someone that isn't me, that's your call, Potts. You go for it. You call Peter and tell him but you better come up with a better reason than because you just _know_ I'm trouble for why the possibility to learn from me should be taken away from him and why he should spend his time interning for one of the low-level engineers in R&D instead. Because your gut feeling is not gonna cut it with this."

"Tony, please, just talk to me."

"There's nothing left for us to talk about, Miss Potts. I think you made that abundantly clear over the last few weeks."

"Stop that," she said, her tone more than sincere.

He bit his lip. It didn't matter. It didn't matter now. "Me? I should stop what exactly? You ghosted me for a month, Pepper. You're my CEO and you couldn't be bothered to pick up the phone when I called."

"You didn't call me because I'm your CEO. You called me because we used to date. Don't drag the company into this!"

"You're the one who's on the phone yelling at me about company business," he yelled back. "I'm sick and tired of fighting with you about every single thing."

"If you would talk to me maybe we wouldn't have to fight all the time."

He balled his fist in frustration, fighting to keep himself from hitting the wall next to him. "I tried to talk to you. You're the one who froze me out."

"Because you left me behind to worry about if you would turn up dead in a ditch somewhere, lying to me about putting a stalker on my heels."

"I wasn't Pepper, I—" He sighed and tried to reign in his temper. "I can't do this. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Then just tell me. Tell me what's going on." The despair in her voice hit him hard. He_ really_ couldn't deal with this anymore.

"I'm letting you go. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? To be free from all the drama."

"You—"

Her breathing hitched and he could tell by the complete silence on the other line that she had muted her microphone. He let himself lean against the wall and slowly slid down until he came to sit on the cold tiled floor. It was only a few seconds of absolute silence and he could make out the return of her labored breathing just before she spoke up again.

"Are you firing me?"

"What? Pepper, no." He took a deep breath, his nerves still on fire. "No. I mean, I would understand if you... if you decided to leave the company, but no. You're an amazing CEO. I'd never fire you. But I'm letting go of you. I... We said we would stay friends but this isn't working. This is worse than it was before. It's not working."

"Tony, I... I'm sorry." She couldn't keep the emotions out of her voice any longer. She didn't even try to hide the way her voice hitched with every other breath. "I... I overstepped. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Potts. You'll be alright. LA is huge and far away. You'll find someone new for your dance card."

"I don't want this, Tony. I'm sorry."

He swallowed the emotions rising in his throat. "Just... we better stick to the memos for now. For work."

"Tony—"

"I'll talk to you at the next quarterly summary meeting."

He said goodbye before she could argue any further and let his head fall back against the wall. He pulled his knees up and buried his head into his hands. This was the right thing to do. He was just stringing her along with all his drama and she didn't deserve that. And he didn't deserve this either, the limbo. The heartache.

A clean cut. A clean cut and 2500 miles between them. That should do it.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to center himself. She'd be pissed at him for this. Once the first emotional response settled she'd be pissed. But that wasn't new. She had been pissed for weeks. Well... months. But she would never air the drama with the kid. Not even now. That was just not how Pepper Potts rolled. Even if she held onto that initial suspicion she'd never actively bust Tony either. Not in any way that would hurt him. After all, they weren't fighting because they hated each other. It was too much love, not too little. Too much love, too much fear, too many aliens and terrorists in Tony's part-time job. It was just too much for them to handle, but that didn't mean... it didn't mean that she cared any less. That she loved him any less.

Right?

He struggled back to his feet. "FRI, windows 10%. Open panel A1."

_**"Yes, Boss."**_

He took the glasses off the mounting from the open panel and fastened the sensors on his skull.

"Activate projection sensors, FRI."

The blue glow of the projectors illuminated the whole workshop, but their alignment focused on a 10 by 14 feet area at the far end of the room, an empty space just by the windows. Tony stepped up to the very edge of it. He closed his eyes and leaned into the soft pressure of the sensors on his scalp. He knew exactly which memory he was searching for. He could see it clearly in front of him, the living room in the old Malibu house. The fireplace to the left, the long couch in front of the floor-to-ceiling that were windows overlooking the Pacific. They had only had those smaller side tables then, the center of the room an open space covered by a thick square carpet.

The sensors were running hot on his skin, working at full capacity. The effort it took to call up the image made him gasp. It didn't hurt as much as there was an overwhelming emotional charge due to the process.

He'd done this before. He'd done this a lot. Countless hours that were needed to finalize functionality on the Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing when Tony opened his eyes the holographic illusion in front of him still left him in awe every time. They were right there in front of him, so real, if he didn't know any better he could have sworn that he would be able to just reach out and touch them. This had been very real after all, once. Years ago, but that memory was still etched into his brain as if it had been yesterday.

He had heard them laughing, the sound echoing through the house had reached him as soon as he had opened the door of the workshop in the basement. He'd been careful not to make any sound as he took two steps at a time until he reached the landing on the ground floor. Pepper's high-heels stood abandoned by the edge of the carpet. She sat on the ground in front of the couch, barefoot, legs stretched out wide. Just in front of her holding onto her shoulder stood Aiden. His collection of building bricks was scattered across the floor and he had only eyes for the tall tower in front of him.

Tony had stayed quiet, had just watched them. His son and the woman he wasn't supposed to fall for. The only woman he couldn't afford to screw around with. She laughed as she stretched over to her left and reach for one of the red bricks as instructed by the boy.

"Up here?"

"No, there," he pointed to the little side tower closer to Pepper's left.

"Hm, but don't you want to build this one a bit higher as well?" She asked innocently pointing at the tallest part of the building.

"No, no! Other side!"

She laughed and apologized, then carefully placed the brick on top of one of the side buildings. Aiden beamed and excitedly shuffled from one foot to the other, eyes searching for the next step.

The epitome of domesticity. A dream he'd never had dared to speak out loud.

Pepper had looked up then and seen him, the soft smile never leaving her lips, if anything it might have widened a bit. The projection of his 11 years younger self returned the smile.

"Where's Lisa?"

"I send her home early. She had a couple of long weekends and really deserved an early day."

"Daddy, look!" His son didn't even turn to him, spellbound by his own creation. "Pepper helped."

She shook her head. "I didn't do much, only followed the foreman's instructions."

"Of course. Gotta let the pro handle the design, Pep." Tony walked over and sat himself down next to Pepper, one hand resting on his son's back who studied and analyzed his building, switched out a yellow brick for a blue one and then added more stones on top of it. Tony braced himself on the carpet balanced on his other hand, close to where Pepper's rested. They laughed and watched and helped out whenever instructed by Aiden to do so, their hands on the carpet brushing against each other again and again until eventually, Tony reached for hers, his fingers clasping hers. He looked up at Pepper as she returned the soft squeeze, her thumb drawing soft circles across his own hand.

None of that last part had happened of course. In reality, he had sat down on the other side of the tower and sent Pepper home after a couple of minutes of friendly chatter. It hadn't mattered how much he had wanted her there, how much he had wanted her to be in his life, he couldn't afford that risk because he needed her in Aiden's life. He couldn't give their relationship a shot because if he screwed things up - and by his track record that was more so a question of when not it - so when Tony would screwed things up Aiden might lose the closest relationship in his life other than to Tony, the closed thing he had to a mom.

So Tony had stayed away. Those fantasies about a family life with Pepper and his son hadn't mattered. How much he had been falling for her, how much he had already loved her then hadn't mattered. All that mattered had been Aiden, what he had needed, what would keep him safe and happy. Everything else had taken a backseat.

That pretty picture in front of him, him next to Pepper united as a family, it was a fantasy. His 'what if'. What might have been if he had taken that step a mere week before he had lost his son and his whole world had come shattering down? What if he hadn't been scared of what he might lose for Aiden and instead gained it all? What if he had ignored the doubts and had told Pepper that night. Had told her that he loved her, that he needed in his life as more than his PA. Would he have gone into work that day of his son's birthday? Into that meeting? Would he have maybe left early? Maybe he would have been there to protect his son, to protect his family.

It still made his heart ache and what he was doing sure wasn't healthy. Maybe one day he would actually find the right way to look at this scene, the right way to deal with his grief. Or maybe he had been wrong and B.A.R.F. was just a toy that sent 600 Million Dollars down the drain.

Tony gave himself a couple more minutes to bast in the self-inflicted pain in his heart when he watched the younger projection of himself ruffle Aiden's messy hair with a laugh and how his fingers had intertwined with Pepper's all the way now.

"Alright, enough." He shook his head and pulled the device off his head. "Turn it off, FRI."

"**_Yes, Sir."_**

He rubbed the moisture from his face with both his hand. It was over. He'd have to let it go.

"Dum-E, I want a double espresso, black. Pull up the schematics on Peter's suit, FRIDAY."

He had stuff to do before the kid showed up.

* * *

##

* * *

Just before 3:30 pm, Peter had found his way into the Tower. It had been less of a bad day than the day before, or the day before that. Things with May were still tense. She had been at the apartment by the time he made it home and dinner was waiting but there wasn't really much for them to talk about. She was upset, he got that. But at the end of the day, he was old enough to decide how he wanted to deal with the death of his parents. Shouldn't it be about what felt right for him? Of course, May had known them longer than he had. A lot longer. So maybe it wasn't fair that he made this all about himself when she had lost her brother-in-law and sister-in-law. Sometimes Peter didn't even know if the memories he had of them were actual memories or just something his brain concocted off some old photographs his Aunt and Uncle had shown him.

That night he'd been lying awake thinking not so much about his parents, but about Ben. It hadn't occurred to him with all the Spider-Man and internship stuff going on that May maybe hadn't been all that upset about the fact that it had been the anniversary of his parents passing, but that it had been the first year that Ben wasn't with them for it. That was when it really hit him what a giant asshole he had been. How much he had really let her down.

He got up, out of his bed sometime between 1 am and 2 am when he couldn't bear it anymore. He stood in front of her door, paced up and down for another 30 odd minutes before he found his courage to softly knock. When there was no answer after the second try, he blew caution to the wind and quietly opened the door. The curtains were drawn but at least for this, he could rely on his senses to see. He was fast and quiet but when he slipped into the bed she jolted awake after all.

"Peter? What... Are you okay? What's going on?"

He didn't trust his voice to answer at all. He just rolled over to her and buried his face against her. Her arms held him close at once and he tried so hard not to shake.

"I'm... I'm sorry, May... I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't..."

"Shhh, it's okay, Peter. Just... it's okay."

The next morning he could tell that things weren't forgiven and forgotten. There was still a distinct amount of tension in the air, but she did ruffle his hair and kiss his temple just before he went out the door. Progress, right?

The whole ordeal still lay heavy on his heart as he rode the elevator up to the 67th floor and that wasn't all. The notes Mr. Stark had asked him to make on every incident when his senses had acted up weighed his backpack down like he was carrying around boulders.

"Bad day?" was the first thing Mr. Stark asked when Peter sat foot into the workshop.

He just shrugged. "I've had better weeks."

The man sighed. "Well, let me add on a little. Don't be surprised if you get a phone call from Miss Potts in the foreseeable future."

Peter's jaw dropped. "What? What did I do?"

"Oh," Mr. Stark waved him off. "It's nothing you did."

Peter dropped his backpack to the floor, his lung deflating. "Well, then... what did you do?"

The man shot him a warning look. "I didn't do anything other than maybe faking your logged hours so I won't get in trouble with the law."

Peter gasped. "And she found out?"

"No, not even that. She just... " Mr. Stark blew out his breath. "She might call you and ask you if you wouldn't like to spend some of your hours in one of the labs that the other interns work in."

"The other interns?" Peter frowned. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Listen, she's a bit suspicious because... well, let's just say even with the adapted hour sheet you spend a little more time in my lab than interns usually do."

"Huh." Peter grimaced. "Okay... How much time did your interns usually spend in the lab with you."

"They didn't."

He frowned. "They didn't?"

"No."

Peter shook his head again, trying to grasp what the man was saying. "They didn't spend time in your lab?"

Mr. Stark looked up at him and slightly tilted his head with a look on his face that if Peter didn't know better could have totally been the kind of look Mr. Stark would also give a cute puppy.

"I don't have interns, kid."

Peter looked away for a moment and mulled that one over. Yeah, no, he had nothing.

"I don't understand."

"Stark industry has interns, who work in Stark Industry labs, taught by Stark Industry employees. I usually keep my distance from those labs."

" Oh." Peter's mind was blank.

"They definitely do not spend all their hours in my lab. Or any of their hours really. Ever."

"Right."

Mr. Stark shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. She was a bit, you know, confused. So, I just... I wanted you to know that she might call you. Just so you're not caught off guard. She has no real reason to suspect anything about you, nothing Spiderling related she would know about. So if she does call, just play it cool. You can tell her about the projects we worked on, the SI projects. Just don't tell her that I let you stay past 7 pm." He looked at Peter intently. " Definitely don't tell her that you fell asleep on the sofa in the workshop at 2 am."

"Alright." Peter nodded like he understood which he didn't really. Mr. Stark didn't usually have an intern, but... "I mean, I won't be here a lot after today anyway, right?"

Mr. Stark didn't look at him, just put some tools away, sorting things into the drawers of his workbench. "Yeah, right. Anyway. Now you know. Let's get on with things. First things first, did you write down what we discussed yesterday?"

Peter cleared his throat. "I... yeah... Yeah, I did."

He dropped his stuff on the couch by the kitchenette and took the notebook from his backpack. His pulse picked up right away. This wouldn't be fun. But maybe... maybe they'd get somewhere. Maybe they could figure out how he could get his senses into order again.

Peter sat down on one of the chairs next to Mr. Stark, his hands sweaty, his heartbeat fast in his ears. He told him about the night in that dark ally again, how he wasn't really able to focus, how every cell in his body was just under constant stress and he couldn't really tell all the sensory input apart anymore. He told him about the subway rides and those moments in school when sometimes during the lunch break in the cafeteria or in the hallways between classes, things seemed so much louder than they usually were, how his head would ring and his skin would prickle.

"Then what do you do?" Mr. Stark asked quietly.

Peter shrugged. "Just maybe find a quiet place, dark place. Somewhere in like the... the basement or... or an abandoned classroom."

"When I turned off the lights yesterday, that's when it stopped?"

Peter nodded.

"But when you were on the subway, it wasn't the light, it was the noise that bothered you?"

"I mean, maybe. I... I can't really tell in the moment. I guess, maybe it was the noise but it wasn't any louder than usually. It just. It just felt different."

"Mhhh..." Mr. Stark tapped his fingers on the surface of the table.

"There's... there's also, erm, you... you remember the first day? When... when they wouldn't let me into the building?"

The man looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together. "When you tried to climb the Tower?"

Peter's face heated up. "I... I mean, yeah. I... I got to maybe the 12th floor and then you called. I mean, there wasn't really anything else, no noise, just regular daylight and still, I... I tried to feel out the area around me and it just, everything was just bundled up into each other. I couldn't... I couldn't really tell anything anymore."

Mr. Stark nodded, eyes on the tabletop of the workbench. "You know, I erm..." He sighed and ran a hand across his face. "During a panic attack, for me, the worst thing is always that I don't feel like I'm in control. It's usually not really a rational reaction, it just pulls up this panic and my brain doesn't know how to deal with all that input." He cleared his throat. "I think... maybe... yesterday, you were a little overwhelmed, right? You... lost control because you couldn't get your thoughts in order. I was too much."

Peter bit the inside of his cheeks and just whispered a soft "yeah".

"I think the same thing is probably true for your senses. It's all connected. You need to be in control of your body but you also need to trust your instincts to take over in the right moments. From what you told me about the attack, it seems like you don't really trust yourself to make that distinction anymore, Pete."

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and nodded.

"Yesterday you said, it feels like your nerves are exposed in those moments."

"Right," Peter breathed.

"You know, Bruce Banner once told me, that's what the Hulk feels like to him. Like he's exposed, like a nerve."

Peter looked up at him, eyes wide. "He... he did?"

Mr. Stark met his eyes and nodded. "I'm not sure if there's any parallel between the gamma radiation he was hit with and your spider bite, but I think it comes down to two things and that's you have to learn to focus on your senses, one at a time, cut out the background noise and you have to trust yourself. Trust your instincts and your body. That's probably what saved you from that bite. It's probably what saved you from that attack."

Peter looked down to his hands and he couldn't help but flinch slightly when Mr. Starks hand squeezed his shoulder.

"I build you the best safety net I could come up with, Pete, but if you can't learn to trust yourself again it won't do all that much good. You need to let go of that fear."

"But how?" he whispered, eyes still lowered.

"Just one step at a time."

* * *

##

* * *

_(author's note:_

_That last cliffhanger was a little mean, but here we are. I tried to be quick about posting this one ;)_

_Thank you all for reading, the comments and favorites. )_


	24. That Meeting - Chapter 24

**Chapter 24 - That Meeting**

There were no words to describe how good Peter felt as the mild spring air rushed past him with every swing he took through the streets of Queens.

He'd had some bad days in the last couple of months. Some serious lows. The day he got stabbed. The day Mr. Stark had discovered his true identity and turned up on his doorstep, scaring the living shit out of Peter. He had seen the life he had known already going down the drain, though that whole affair had turned out to be less of a curse than Peter could have ever known. Then that day in Mr. Stark's lab where Peter had lost every little inch of self-control. Every one of these days had made him feel like his life would be over like he had screwed things up to a degree that wasn't salvageable.

But he had come back from it or was on the way to come back from all that anyway. With small steps, just like Mr. Stark had said. Cats and balloon animals that got stuck in the high tree branches, a guy with a flat tire and no tire lever who needed a hand, people on their smartphones almost walking into traffic, the odd purse snatched away from an old lady. It built up his confidence and after two weeks he was back to scaling buildings without so much as a second thought, backflipped off them and swung from one side to the other almost like he had never stopped.

The suit Mr. Stark had built him was so incredibly intuitive. His webs flew further and hit targets with more precision. Still, on the outside the suit was basically indistinguishable from his old one. Some new videos of him had already popped up now that he was patrolling again. He had been anxiously awaiting those, hoping to compare them to the old ones and it had taken no time at all till the first clips showed up on twitter. People seemed to have missed him and that was honestly a comforting thought. Peter had checked out every photo, every clip and there was no way that people would be able to tell that he was wearing a different suit. No comments about it at all. Things were looking up.

And that dreaded phone call from Pepper Potts had never come either. Sure, there had been a weird survey thingy that Mrs. Warren had asked him to fill out. Apparently some formality from Stark Industries checking up on the progress of the internship. How much he was learning if he liked his instructor. General stuff like that. The only downer was that his time in the lab in reality had dramatically decreased. He was really only supposed to show up once a week now for a quick checkup and some new web fluid. Other than that he only checked in with Mr. Stark via text. Sure, he had a lot more free time again when he wasn't on patrol, but he missed the work. It had been fun and he had learned a lot, but he couldn't blame Mr. Stark. He'd already done so much and he deserved to have his peace and quiet back, his lab to himself.

Talking about peace and quiet, this wasn't the day for it. He had had his hopes that maybe everyone would just forget about him, but as soon as he was back out and about, as cool as it was that people were talking about him again, all the videos they posted, it became quite clear that they would have to set up that meeting with the Black Widow.

Peter stood on the ledge of a building a couple of blocks off Queens Boulevard, East of Calvary Cemetery. He had just swung over a few moments ago a little behind schedule even though he had headed out early, just to be sure to get there on time. But then he had gotten sidetracked by this guy, who had been about to cut through the lock on a couple of e-bikes. Well, Peter couldn't let that slide, could he? And he hadn't thought it would take all that long, but he was still a bit out of practice, a bit slow to react. It was one thing when it was just him swinging through the streets, but as soon as there was involvement from one of those petty criminals, Peter was still a little hesitant. He still found himself question his instincts all the time and that was a problem. It slowed him down and because of it, the dude had almost slipped through his fingers. Then he had made an unbelievable accurate shot. The updated web-shooters that they had added to the suit just the week before were a technological marvel. The precision and distance he could get out of those things had rendered him speechless. And that was saying something for Peter Parker.

Though it had taken the guy almost getting away and Peter's thoughts being overrun by his instincts to profit off the range of those shooters. He had needed to get out of his head and as soon as he had, as soon as he had just reacted on his instincts and stopped trying to plan out what to do, he had made that impossible shot and caught the thief. Mr. Stark had told him to trust himself and he just needed to listen, because Mr. Stark was right. Almost all the time. It was annoying as hell but true.

The little detour had made Peter dangerously late for the rendezvous. He'd probably get an earful for that later, but at least it would seem a little less set up, right? Though it was of course. A setup. They had gone over the details of what Peter should be expecting to happen multiple times. So often in fact, he had gotten nervous about whether he would be able to pull all this off naturally. He could only hope that it didn't show in his posture that he could sense them approaching from behind long before they called out for him because of course, he could sense them linger in the shadows of the building. He had felt their presence as soon as he had set foot on that rooftop, if not mid-swing.

"Evening, Spiderling." Mr. Stark called out.

A shudder went through him even though Peter had known the man was waiting for him. He slowly turned and let his body react to the tingling of his skin. Just a small step back that should have him look surprised and tentative, a little closer to the edge of the building.

"Mr. Stark." Peter's eyes traveled over to Natasha Romanoff who stepped up next to the man. "Out with a friend?"

He tilted his head and smirked at Peter. "You remember the Black Widow."

"Hard to forget," Peter mumbled not at all disingenuous.

Romanoff's face didn't twitch. She narrowed her eyes on him, slowly looking him up and down.

Peter cleared his throat. He couldn't see any weapons on her but that didn't mean she wasn't armed. Mr. Stark had assured him multiple times that she wouldn't try to detain him, but those were still two Avengers right in front of him who had sought him out in the dark on an empty rooftop.

"What is it, casual Friday at the office? Your suit in the shop?"

Mr. Stark pursed his lips and Peter wasn't sure if this was for show or if he really was on shaky ground with the attitude he put on, but he had been working on that line all day and nobody could see the smirk on his lips anyway.

"We're here for a chat, actually."

Peter cleared his throat. "Well, I'll leave you guys to it then. I've got this thing anyway..." He pointed over his shoulder in the general direction of Queens.

Before he could turn and pretend to leave Mr. Stark quickly spoke up. "A chat with you, Underoos."

"Oh." Peter looked back and forth between them. "Well, you should call my secretary and she'll put a date in the—"

"That's enough now," the Widow spoke up, a scary vibe of finality ringing in her voice. "What were you doing in Manhattan, the day of the attack."

"Erm..." Peter had spiked the moment Romanoff opened her mouth. She was one scary lady. He swallowed his nerves and shot a short glance in Mr. Stark's direction that he immediately regretted. He was on his own for this one. The man couldn't help him right now. Wouldn't. So Peter looked up at the sky instead and the rooftops on either side of them, avoiding her sharp gaze. "I mean, I just happened to be in the neighborhood. Looked like you were in need of assistance."

Romanoff narrowed his eyes on him some more and took a step closer. She was studying his every move. This would have to be what it felt like to lie in an x-ray machine.

"You just happened to be around," she put out, openly disbelieving.

Peter shrugged. "I was hanging out close to the bridge. Heard the explosions. Sounded like something was going down."

"We have a request from the NYPD to bring you in," Mr. Stark pointed out.

Peter knew that of course but just the thought that they would hand him over to the police department still send a shiver down his spine. They wouldn't do that. Mr. Stark had said they wouldn't really do that. This was all just for show, but still. "I... I respectfully decline."

The Widows expression hadn't changed, she hadn't even tried to step closer and yet the tone of her voice got thoroughly under his skin. "That's not for you to decide, Spider."

Peter couldn't help but scratch the back of his neck. "I was... I was just trying to help. I didn't mean to—"

He looked up and both of them stood frozen. The distinct vibrations of a mobile phone echoed across the rooftop. Two phones, actually. Both of them reached for their pockets, phones in hand. The Widow had her eyes on Mr. Stark and nudged her head towards Peter and retreated into the shadows but of course, that wouldn't stop Peter from hearing what—

"Hey, Spiderling." Mr. Stark had taken a couple of steps closer to him. "That call is really none of your concern."

Oh, he had meant that one. But that was easier said than done. She was still close enough that if he'd really concentrate he'd even be able to hear the other person on the phone. It wasn't too hard to block that part out and though her responses were scattered and monosyllable, to Peter's ears it was like she was speaking right next to him.

"How many?" Her back was turned to them and Peter found her voice just drew him in, made his eyes swing back into her direction time and time again. "I can. An hour maybe."

"Kid!" Mr. Stark snarled under his breath.

"She's right there!" Peter whispered back, his face drawn into a scowl under the mask that Mr. Stark thankfully wouldn't be able to see. "What do you want me to do? Cover my ears?"

"For starters."

Peter tilted his head in open annoyance at that. It wasn't his fault that his hearing was excellent. He just had time to pull himself together when the Widow hung up the call and turned back to them.

"We have to go. Spider, you were lucky that day, I hope you know that. We will not tolerate any further meddling in our affairs."

"Right." Peter breathed out.

"Tony." Romanoff nudged her head for him to follow her and Mr. Stark did without another look at Peter. Both Avengers simply turned and left him there.

It took him a couple of minutes till he pulled himself out of the defensive headspace. So, then... then that was it? They were gone and... well, that had turned out to be rather anti-climactic. He was supposed to meet Mr. Stark back at the Tower in about an hour and a half to go over how the meet up went. But honestly, Peter wasn't sure what exactly they'd have to analyze. This had been, well, this had been a cakewalk. What had he even been so afraid of all this time?

He could totally squeeze in about an hour of patrolling around Queens before he had to make his way to the Tower and he had a few lost weeks of crime-fighting to make up for.

* * *

##

* * *

They had left the kid and headed for the car. This could have gone worse. A lot worse. Peter had done well, a healthy mix of confidence and anxiety. Tony let himself fall into the passenger seat and pulled out his phone right as Natasha started the engine.

"Any more details from that call?" He asked, eyes on his phone. He'd only seen the memo line of the mission call.

She turned around and checked the street before she sped out into traffic.

"A bunch of targets lit up simultaneously."

"I can always just call another car, Nat. Then you could head right back to the Compound. You don't really have to drive me by the Tower."

"It's fine. There's a guy in R&D I have to speak to before we head off on the mission."

His eyebrows shot up and he glanced at her. "What do you need to talk to one of my R&D guys for?"

Her eyes stayed fixed on the road, her mouth shut.

Tony gasped. "Are you hooking up with people from my staff?"

"Of course that's the first thing_ your_ mind goes to."

"Nat, don't confuse my staff. They're smart, but not socially skilled enough to date a spy."

Again, no answer.

"Fine, keep your secrets then," he shrugged, then pulled up the mission memo on his phone. "Sudan, Gabon, Cameroon, and Nigeria? That's quite a few spots to hit. You'll be gone for weeks on this."

Again, she didn't answer, eyes on the road.

"I'm just saying," he tried again. "We still haven't ruled out any more attacks on the homeland, have we?"

"Crossbones needs new supplies, new weapons. He burned his South American connections."

"Right." Tony grimaced at the name. He hated it when she used it. It made Rumlow sound so much more badass and important than he was. Sure, he was a pain and a threat and they needed to get him locked up in a dark, dark cell, but they had bigger things they should spend their time on. Of course, the faster they got the guy, the faster they'd be able to focus on that global threat looming off-planet.

"You'll have Vision to help you keep an eye on things. And Rhodey," she added like an afterthought.

Of course, she would. Rhodey was helpful in a fight but difficult to get access to. There had to be clear cut intel to call on him. Tony scrolled through the list of cities, towns and possible terrorist outposts on the memo. They'd have to spy out every single location to collect enough information if they even wanted to begin to understand which ones held the weapons that Rumlow was targeting. They really could be gone for up to a month on that mission. Not like he'd miss the team meetings but they were not really prepared for a long mission like that. Too little structure at home for when most of the team would be gone this long. Too many unknown variables, missing details for the mission itself. And there were no agreements over US military engagements with any of these countries.

"Maybe you should leave Wanda behind. Her powers will attract attention and you need to stay off their radar."

Natasha shook her head. "Steve says we need her to contain the weapons."

"Maybe—"

"Tony, there's no other option. We can't let Rumlow get his hands on those supplies. It's that easy. There is no alternative."

He blew out his breath and shot a glance out the window. They were just coming off the Queensborough Bridge, a couple of blocks from where they had just about managed to foil Rumlow's latest attack a few weeks prior. Thanks to the kid.

"Yeah, I know. I know. Just... you know."

"We'll be careful. We always are."

He kept his mouth shut for the rest of the ride, eyes on his phone, thoughts circling around the weeks to come. She drove them down into the darkness of the Tower's parking garage. Phone in hand Tony headed for the elevator. There was stuff he still had to do. The kid was supposed to drop by later to talk about how things went during the rendezvous but they'd have to postpone that to the next day, or the day after that. There was shit he had to get in order with most of the team about to head off.

"Upstairs, FRI."

The doors closed behind him. He opened a different file on his phone, the Compound's staff sheet. He'd have to spend more time upstate, keep an eye on things. Or he could get Agent Hill to do it. Probably a mix of both. The elevator doors opened to his penthouse.

"FRI, get me a meeting with Agent Hill. Tell her I need her on location supervising the Compound. Do I have time tomorrow morning?"

**_"I will contact her right away, Boss. You have variable time slots that can be moved or adapted between 9 am and 11:45 am tomorrow morning."_**

"Right."

"Hill's already at the Compound, Tony."

He flinched and turned to make sure his ears weren't betraying him. Damn, he hadn't even noticed that Natasha had gotten on the elevator with him.

"Jeez, Nat." He shook his head and headed for the coffee maker. "Didn't you say you needed to talk to an R&D guy?"

"I do. My R&D guy, actually."

He froze as the tone of her voice crashed over him. _Her_ R&D guy?

"You build the spider a suit."

Tony's heart gave a painful jump like someone had just kicked it into a higher gear. He kept his back turned to her, willed his pulse to pipe down.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you build the spider a suit."

He made an effort to clench his jaw and keep it from falling open. How? How could she know? He had been so careful to make the fabric look just as flimsy as the material Peter had used.

"Nat, I... erm, what—"

"Think long and hard about what you're going say to me now."

Tony did turn to face her at that. Her face was blank, eyebrows slightly knitted together but no clear indication for him where he stood with her. This... fuck. This was not how he had seen this play out.

"Listen, I—"

"You lied to us." Her eyes were dark and unblinking.

He shook his head. "I did not."

She dropped the calm at that. "You fucking did, Tony. God, I can't believe you've been this stupid! How am I supposed to help you if you shoot yourself in the foot like that."

"I didn't lie to you! Not once. I just... yeah, I guess I kept some details to myself, but I didn't lie!"

"Don't try to talk your way out of this with me of all people. You've been working with the Spider-Man and you didn't say a fucking word about it." She ran a hand through her hair, eyes now clearly burning with anger. "And you did lie. I asked you! I asked you right after that damn day in Manhattan to tell us what you know!"

"And I did. I told you everything that I did know at that point."

"Great, Tony, just fantastic."

"He came to the Tower that night and—"

"I seriously don't even know if I want to hear any of your excuses. You messed up. Big time." Fighting with Natasha was not like fighting with anyone else. She didn't turn away in frustration, she was in his face, watching every little twitch he made at her words. "This is a big fucking mess and now I either get to throw you under the bus or I get to lie about what you know to the team. This was a fucking stupid stunt to pull!"

Tony had his arms crossed, eyes on the floor. "He showed up at the Tower bleeding out from a stab wound the night of the mission in Manhattan. Sam had chased him around and I felt bad about it because that was just such a dumb move—"

"I don't think you get to judge people for their dumb moves anymore," she bit out.

He only groaned. "You know what I mean."

Natasha closed her eyes with a shake of her head and sighed, "It was a fucking dumb move. So what, you secretly nursed him back to health? Jeez, Tony."

He cleared his throat. "I stitched him up and then he ditched me."

"He ditched you? You let the guy ditch you?"

He shot her a glance. He really didn't need that kind of attitude. "I had all the windows locked as well as access to the lobby but he took the elevator to one of the viewing platforms and crawled down the side of the building."

"He crawled down the side of the building right after he was stabbed?" There was a note of respect swinging in her voice that Tony was entirely uncomfortable with.

"I really don't want to get into this."

"Do you know who he is? I mean, who he really is?"

He mulled that one over for a moment then looked up at her. "Yes."

"Jeez, Tony."

"He's just a kid. He's strong but he's naive and enthusiastic, intimidated by the team."

Natasha shook her head and finally turned away from him. She let herself fall into the cushions of the couch with a groan.

"You have to tell them, you know that, right?"

"He's just a kid, Nat."

"It doesn't matter. This could... this could be disastrous. If this comes out at the wrong time... Tony, I don't think they would listen and I can't really blame them either. If they find out that you kept this from them it would underline their worst assumptions. That whole thing with Ultron will come up again, you know that. We'd have to go through all that bullshit all over again."

"I do know that." He scratched the back of his neck. This was going to be trouble. He didn't want to go back on his word to the kid, but if he didn't he risked a rift within the Avengers they might never get over. He couldn't let that happen either. The world relied on them. He knew what was out there waiting for them somewhere in the galaxy and he needed the team if Earth wanted to even stand a chance against all of it. "I know I have to tell them. I just... He's just a kid, Nat. He needs some time is all."

She groaned. "You should have told us when you found out. You should have just told us and all of the secrecy bullshit could have been avoided. Hell, you would have actually had them trust you more!"

"Oh please," he rolled his eyes at her. "Like that would have changed anything. Cap doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me."

"Tony, that's not true."

"You know what, you're right. He could throw me quite a lot further with those ridiculous super serum arms than he trusts me."

She pursed her lips, eyes locked on him. "Steve might have had some strong disagreements with you, but he trusts you."

"Not enough that he would have let the Spiderling just be. They were feral after that mission, completely unreasonable and you know it," Tony argued.

"You make it sound like they'd devour him if they'd get their hands on him."

"He came out to help us and Wilson chased him through the streets, which made the Spiderling hide in some alleyway where he got stabbed and almost bled out. He's scared, can you blame him?"

"I'm not blaming him, I'm blaming you."

He couldn't help but smirk at that. "Of course you are."

She looked at him, quietly studying him before she shook her head in resignation. "I can't believe you build him a fucking suit. Could you be more obvious?"

He crossed his arms. "He was jumping around in a onesie that got shredded the instance it came into contact with a somewhat sharp blade. What else was I gonna do?"

"What do I know..." She ran a hand across her face, massaging the bridge of her nose. "Ground him?"

"I'm not his babysitter."

"Could have fooled me," she muttered and Tony scowled at her. "You can't just build people superhero suits, Tony."

He narrowed his eyes on her. "Yeah, right, how are those new Bites working out for ya?"

"That's different and you know it." She shook her head, then shrugged. "Great actually. The balance is off the charts."

"Well, you're welcome." He gave an exaggerated bow in front of her. "How the hell did you even this out. The suit's perfect."

"Please," she rolled her eyes. "You think I can't spot your craftsmanship from a mile away? I'm insulted."

"That almost sounded like a compliment, Nat. You're losing your edge."

She rubbed both hands across her face. Her chest rose and fall with deep steady breaths.

"You trust him, don't you."

Tony shrugged. That wasn't the point. "I have no reason to mistrust him."

She didn't answer, let her hands fall down onto her thighs and only stared into space. With a regular person, he could have probably seen wheels turning in their head, eyes moving as they would jump from one thought to the next. Not with Natasha. With her, there was nothing to read, but he knew her well enough what that face on her meant. He knew she was working things over in her mind. That was just who she was.

He sighed and gave another shrug. "I was going to tell you. Eventually."

"I have to get back to the Compound, Tony. Now. We need to leave and..." She looked up at him. "I'm not gonna tell them. Not now. We need to focus on the mission."

Tony nodded, trying to keep his own pulse from jumping at her statement. "Thank you."

"As soon as we're back, you'll come clean."

"Alright."

"No excuses, no stories. You'll tell them. You'll apologize."

"Alright, alright. I will."

She shook her head again before she got up and headed for the elevator. Tony ruffled a hand through his hair as he watched her leave. As soon as the elevator doors had closed he buried his head in his hands and groaned loudly, airing all of his frustration.

"FRIDAY, send the kid a message. He's to stay away from the Tower tonight and has to get off the streets immediately. Tell him I mean it. I want him to lay low for a couple of days until I contact him again."

**_"Right away, Boss."_**

* * *

##

* * *

_(Author's note: Thanks as always for reading and the lovely comments, folks! 3 )_


	25. Even Newton had bad days - Chapter 25

**Chapter 25 - Even Newton Had Bad Days**

Things for Tony usually happened in sets of threes. If one thing went terribly wrong he usually didn't have to wait too long for numbers two and three to follow along. In fact, this time number one and two had happened in quick succession of each other. The mission call to Africa, which meant he would be left in charge of things at the Compound and overseeing US operations. He hadn't even started to process what that would mean for his already packed schedule when Natasha had gone ahead and figured out his whole thing with the kid. Well, not the whole thing. Not yet. But she knew enough. The rest would likely only be a matter of time.

The team was always going to find out at some point, but he had really hoped that he'd have more time. More time to get the kid's trust. More time for the dynamics in the team to calm down a bit. More time that Peter could just digest everything that had happened to him in the last few weeks between his less than optimal first encounter with the Avengers and the trauma that followed. The kid had potential, that much was obvious but he'd need training and he had some growing up to do, possibly some turning 18, though it was clear that he was itching to get out and do more and with his strength and superhuman abilities there was little to stop him.

The first time Peter had tried on the suit, that day in the lab just after he had completely fallen apart, Tony had watched with a weird mix of reservation and amazement how the kid's demeanor had changed, his eyes brightened, shoulders squared and head held high after he had swung around the lab for a while and shot some webs for target practice. The purpose was a part of him. Peter was good at this.

Well, Tony still had some time till he'd have to tell the team. That also meant he still had some time till _Peter_ had to know that Tony would have to tell the team. Another week or two for the kid to bask in his ignorance. Then a couple of weeks to give him time to come to terms with the reality of the situation. When the team would come back from the mission Tony would have to bring him to the Compound so they could have their talk.

Peter would be fine. He would be. Probably. Tony might get them to accept the kid's request for his secret identity. Hopefully. The whole thing about Spider-Man being a 14-year-old kid would not go over well. At all. Neither would Tony tolerating an underaged vigilante and arguably supporting him in continuing.

It had been less than a day after the first two things happened when problem number three came around the corner. FRIDAY had forwarded an urgent deadline request from the Stark Industry headquarters in LA. One of their top three clients threatened to walk away from a deal in digital storage capacity, claiming a better offer from HT Solutions - formerly known as Hammer Industries and since bought by a Chinese investor. They were looking for a 7.5% increase in capacity or they would walk their investment all the way to Asia.

7.5% wasn't undoable - with time and research - but the deadline was just a week away. That would have been ambitious even if his team hadn't just left him in charge of the Compound while they went to another continent. It became even more complicated when after the first three days, that had left Tony with only a couple of hours of sleep each, the added data dumps from Africa were coming in steady. The team traveled lightly and analysis of the intel was mostly done by FRIDAY. They uncovered a good portion of data, movements between different camps and messages that needed decrypting from the first few targets in the outskirts of al-Faschir in Sudan.

"Transmission from locations 4 and 5 did not match the signature at all," Tony read off the graphic that was gradually extended by FRIDAY with different data signatures.

"But 4 and 5 do match each other, right?" Roger's voice was booming through the lab and even without the 11th espresso that day, Tony wouldn't have had a problem to follow his words.

His eyes wandered back and forth across the graphic. "Most of them do. There is a third signature that actually seems to match another receiver, but that one has not shown up in any of the readings you send along."

"We're thinking they use both locations to communicate with bases across the border. There could be a connection with a splinter group from Nigeria," Rogers explained.

Tony shook his head. "I can't pin down the destination from what I have here. If you get me an area limited to about 60 square miles I can run analysis and possibly find a match but even that could take up to a day or more. We're talking about multiple million data sets a day over the timeframe of a few weeks. You need to down the area first or the number of signals would just be too high. I might find something eventually, but not in a reasonable timeframe."

"It might be some time before we will have that information. I'll keep you posted. I gotta go. Nat's waiting."

"Alright, Cap. Don't get caught!"

Tony hung up and ran both hands over his face.

_**"Boss, you have a 5 pm deadline set for phase 2.2."**_

Tony sighed, "Alright then. Open up the documentation. What time is it now?"

**_"It's 3:28 pm, Sir."_**

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

**_"While you were on the phone there were also two missed calls from Mr. Gordon's desk of the Research and Development LA division categorised as urgent, one call from Miss Potts' office confirming they received the update on phase 1.4 that was initialized successfully, an update from Ms. Hill on Vision's progress at the abandoned facility in Blacksburg, Virginia, and another call from Mrs. Turner on a problem with the two Arc Reactor installation sites in Orlando awaiting your response at your earliest convenience but before 7pm tonight as well as two text messages from Peter Parker still waiting for response."_**

Tony rubbed circles across both his temples simultaneously. Where was he even to start on this?

"Tell Gordon I'm wired in for the next 30 minutes. Tell him I'll call, 4 pm Eastern sharp, and he can have 2 minutes and 30 seconds. Also, remind me to call him at 4 pm sharp. Tell Orlando I'll call them at 6:50 pm unless it's about the groundwater runoff, then have them send the specs and have them call me at 5:15 pm."

_**"Will do, Boss. There is also a low-level alert about the amount of sleep you missed in the last 84 hours. I must strongly advise you to take a break, eat and sleep at the earliest possibility."**_

Tony waved her off. "Remind me about that again on Friday, girl."

_**"Sir, today is Saturday."**_

He groaned. "Just open up those documents on phase 2.2, FRI."

**_"What about Peter Parker, Sir?"_**

Tony shook his head.

"Just tell him I'll get back to him."

His eyes moved across the projection, looking for the line in the code he had FRIDAY mark before he had taken the incoming call from Rogers.

He cleared his throat before adding, "And tell him to stay low and not to fall out of the sky."

* * *

##

* * *

It had been more than a week since that rendezvous with the Black Widow. Longer than that since he had been at the Tower. He had gone home that day and like Mr. Stark had asked, he just stayed low to the ground for a couple of days, only went out at night so he was less likely to get caught by civilians' camera phones. Mr. Stark had canceled their meet up and hadn't set a new one, had hardly responded to Peter's texts at all. It had been 8 days since he'd been at the Tower and even though he rationed his supply, he had run out of web fluid two nights ago on his right shooter. At first, he was going to stop his patrols. He texted Mr. Sark again but just wouldn't get a reply. So he went out anyway. It was good training, right? Relying on only one of his arms. Maybe he wouldn't have been hurt that night in that alley if he would have known how to deal with using only one shooter. If he hadn't frozen up. The one left only worked for a couple more hours though and had run out the next day. No web fluid meant basically no patrolling. He could still do stuff but he relied on the web-shooters for a quick escape. For wrapping up the thieves and criminals.

Peter had been two seconds away from just brewing new web fluid during his chem class. He had messaged Mr. Stark on the weekend, then again on Monday when the first shooter ran out and again on Tuesday, had asked if it was okay now to come by the Tower but Mr. Stark hadn't responded. It wouldn't even have been a big deal to brew a batch in class. He had done it countless times and nobody had ever caught him.

But Mr. Stark had said not to steal from the school supplies, so instead, Peter set out for Manhattan after school. It was a Wednesday and Wednesdays had usually been internships days for Peter. Well, almost every day had been an internship day for a couple of those weeks that Mr. Stark had worked on the suit, but - officially - Wednesdays and Fridays were the days they had agreed on. Then he had gotten the suit and his hours were cut down. He was really only supposed to drop by to maintain the suit and make new web fluid.

Peter took the subway, the familiar connection he hurried to make after school was out. Then the few short minutes it took him to walk from the station to the Tower. He stopped just as he turned the corner, eyes on the main entrance. What if Mr. Stark had revoked his access? Or if he didn't even have any form of standing access like he had thought and Mr. Stark had only ever just informed FRIDAY that he was coming and now that he hadn't asked Peter to come to the Tower, or at least confirmed the appointment, what if Peter would set off some kind of alarm with his access card? Maybe he should just call him? But the man might not even answer. Just like he hadn't with most of Peter's texts. Plus, Peter had already made it to the Tower and he really needed that batch of web fluid. He might as well go inside.

He hadn't felt this nervous walking up to the building since the first day when security had almost handed him over to the police. He walked in undisturbed this time though. They knew his face by now. He'd been in and out of the Tower plenty of times. He was familiar with the hollow echo his footsteps made on the marvel floor of the lobby. And nobody heard how loudly his heart was beating as he held up his access card to the scanner at security. The green light flashed up in seconds and he couldn't quite believe it. There he was, the elevator opening for him at the far side of the wall.

He stepped inside and waited a moment for the doors to close.

"Hi, FRIDAY."

**_"Hello, Peter. Good to have you back."_**

He smiled up at her camera. "I'm happy to be back, too. Is... erm... do you think you can get me to the lab upstairs?"

His stomach exploded with the familiar tingle as the elevator sped up to the 67th floor. The doors opened into the lab and he was actually a little surprised to see Mr. Stark right there in the middle of the room. The presence of the man in his own lab in his own Tower sure wasn't a surprise in itself, but the lab... Well, the lab.

There was stuff spread out on every available surface. Tools lying around, empty coffee cups scattered on every table, a small stack of used dishes on the ground next to the couch. Peter kicked a screwdriver across the floor when he stepped out of the elevator and it rolled into the middle of the room, only stopped by one of the workbenches. His jaw dropped and there was absolutely nothing he could even think to say. He had expected Mr. Stark to be busy. This was a different level of busy. Of course, there had to be an urgent reason as to why the man had responded so sparsely to Peter's messages or at all, really. Peter wasn't stupid, something had been in the works that day Mr. Stark and Natasha Romanoff had met Peter in Queens. But this... This did not at all look like what he had expected.

"Erm... Mr. Stark?"

The man turned around, hair wild, sticking into different directions. His face looked like he hadn't seen any daylight since the last time Peter had seen him. Or a pillow.

"Pete?" His eyes were wide, socket wrench in one hand, pliers in the other. "What are you doing here?"

Peter had to force his jaw shut so he would stop gaping at the scene in front of him. "I asked FRIDAY if she could bring me up. I've run out of fluid and I haven't really heard from you for over a week so..." he speed-talked, then shook his head at Mr. Stark. "What... what happened here?"

The man looked to either side of himself like he just now noticed the chaos around him. "Been quite a week."

"Yeah... yeah, looks like it," Peter mumbled.

Mr. Stark ran the back of his hand across his eyes. "Listen, this is not a good time. Maybe just... just come back on... FRI, what day is it?"

_**"It's Wednesday, May 11th, Sir."**_

Peter took another couple of steps into the lab. "Mr. Stark, are you okay?"

"Me? Peachy." The man flashed a smile, the one you'd find on magazine covers, then scratched his head with the handle of the pliers as Peter walked closer.

"Is that the tablet we finished last week?"

Mr. Stark looked at the tools in his hands and then over his shoulder at the parts on the workbench.

"Uhm, yeah. There... I need to rearrange the layout because..." He shook his head. "Listen, Pete. Things are a bit crazy. Come by... come by on Saturday." He shook his head again. "FRIDAY, do I have time on Saturday?"

_**"You're at the Compound on Saturday, Boss."**_

"Alright, Sunday then." He turned back towards Peter. "Sunday we can... we can look at the... Why are you here again?"

Peter swallowed and looked back and forth between the man and the open mayhem around them. "I... Are you sure, you're okay? I mean, I could... If you need a hand..."

Mr. Stark's face soften. "Pete, listen. That's... You're a good kid, but I don't have time to explain stuff. I need to be done with this like the day before yesterday and really I just—"

"I could... I could just put some of the stuff away," Peter interrupted. "If you want? You... you need some space to work. Maybe get you some food? You..." Peter frowned. "Sir, you look like shit."

Mr. Stark barked out a laugh that seemed a lot more genuine than the picture-perfect smile he had flashed before.

"And honestly, so does the workshop. Where's Dum-E?" He turned to look around the lab but the bot was resting in his charging station.

"He... He kept dropping things and then smashed the cups in the dishwasher it— " Mr. Stark shook his head again. "Just, yeah, if you want to you can just have a look at what needs to... needs to..." He gestured at the general direction of the kitchenette, then the table that stood against the wall, before his eyes fell onto the workstation that Peter had been working at for the last few weeks.

"Don't worry about it, Sir." Peter had already dropped his bag next to the sofa. "You can just get back to the layout and I'll take care of some of the things over there."

The sofa itself had a few empty cups and a mountain of power bar wrappers spread over one end and a crumpled up blanket thrown over the other side like someone had been living on it. Peter frowned at the mess then found that Mr. Stark was still looking at him.

"It's... There were a lot of things that I—"

"I'll take care of it, Sir. Just... just get back to that tablet."

Some of the tension fell off Mr. Stark's face and to Peter's horror it made the lines around his eyes and mouth, the bags under his eye stand out even more.

"Thanks, kid."

Peter wandered into the kitchen first. There were broken plates and cups in the sink as well as in the dishwasher, puddles of spilled liquid that Peter hoped was just coffee on the countertop, a bunch of coffee beans and candy scattered all over the place. Yeah, he had to clean up that stuff before he could bring any kind of order to the lab. He carefully extracted the shards first from the sink, then the dishwasher and stacked it with the remaining dirty dishes from the kitchen that were still intact. Then he made his way back into the workshop, collected the dishes spread out all across that room.

Mr. Stark was bent over his table, talking to FRIDAY, cursing out his tools. His mood was foul, that much was obvious. Peter had seen him angry and agitated before, that first car ride to the Compound came to mind, or even that time he had found out how old Peter was. A shudder went through him and he had to shake off the memory of that day.

This was different though.

"For fuck's sake, the .8 hex, FRIDAY."

**_"Boss, you dropped the .8 hex screwdriver."_**

But Mr. Stark just went on and on, his head somewhere else completely. "It was just here. I just had it." Mr. Stark yanked at the drawers, opening them one after the other.

Peter quickly put down the 4 cups he was carrying on the coffee table next to the sofa. He went over to what in his head he had come to call _his_ workbench. There is was, the screwdriver he had accidentally kicked across the room earlier. Peter picked it up and quickly walked over to Mr. Stark.

"I think you might have dropped this earlier, Sir. It was across the room by the elevator when I came in."

He placed the tool down on the table next to the open case of the Stark tablet.

"That... thanks, kid. I knew I'd just had this." The man didn't look at him. Just shook his head and picked up the screwdriver. He loosened the mounting of the graphic card, carefully dislodged the ultra-thin cable that connected it to the memory unit. Next, he would... Peter's eyes wandered across the table.

"Pete, actually, I need the—"

Peter put down the small narrow nose pliers and the drift punch next to the tablet. It did make the man look up at last.

"Yeah, that."

Peter shrugged. "You know, I was here when you put this together in the first place."

"You were, huh?" Mr. Stark smirked at him. "I need the wire cutter. And get the flat cable. It's somewhere in the..." He turned and looked back and forth between the two other workbenches.

"I got it, Mr. Stark. Why are you taking all of this apart again anyway?"

He sighed. "The new design was supposed to be more efficient in the layout so the users could later decide to add—"

"...to add more memory and/or storage capacity later on. Yeah, Sir. I know that part."

"Right. Well, we had a company build a new assembly system to produce these and instead of sticking to the design I gave them, they messed up and aligned the interior layout completely mirrored but kept all the outlets the same. So I need to update the prototype."

Peter frowned as he watched Mr. Stark's hands that reattached the pieces in a different order. "Can't they just change the machine?"

"They can," the man cleared his throat. "But I was told that from an economical aspect it would be more efficient to change the prototype because we lose 8 Million Dollars for every day the assembly line is not producing anything. And building a new assembly machine would take about a month."

"Wow." That was more money in a day than Peter could ever dream of making in a lifetime. "But... wait if you put the graphic card over there, then you'll lose the whole effect of the added capacity!"

Mr. Stark sighed. "Preaching to the choir, Pete."

"You should sue them."

"Yeah, but suing them is not gonna magically make the machine do what it's supposed to do."

"Well, that sucks."

Mr. Stark chuckled and with that Peter moved on to deal with the remaining chaos. It was almost 7 by the time he went down to the cafeteria and got them both some dinner. He also took the pile of dishes from the cafeteria and returned them with an awkward apology. They sat down at Peter's workbench and he listened to Mr. Stark talking himself through the third phase adaptations of a digital storage concept and different forms of compressing data.

"...because people so far have just been looking at it diagonally or linear _or_ in a chaos structure, but what they failed to see is that all of them can be implemented in combination with each other and that's what makes it so efficient. I mean I hadn't thought of all that either until like two nights ago when I dropped all the M&M's and coffee beans in the kitchen and then realized that with the pattern of the tiles it kind of... well, it was a bit of a Newton moment, just with M&Ms instead of an apple," the man shrugged. "Not that I would ever compare myself to Newton."

Peter snorted. "Of course you wouldn't, Mr. Stark."

"I mean Newton was only scratching the surface, right? This... this could be... Well. Hey," he pointed his fork at Peter. "You better not steal my idea, kid. I don't want to have to chase you around the block."

"Of course not!" Peter smirked. "What was that about implementing the diagonal layer again? I think my tape recorder didn't quite get that part."

Mr. Stark narrowed his eyes on him but the mock dismay was palpable. "Where did you pick up that lip, kid. We really need to work on your manners!"

Peter laughed and shoved the last bite of pasta into his mouth.

"Anyway," Mr. Stark continued, "the best part is actually, that it doesn't just help with the capacity but it individualizes the decryption process to a degree that is ridiculously hard to crack."

Peter shook his head in wonder. How could Mr. Stark even keep that many details in his brain all at once? Peter might have a knack for remembering the odd bit of trivia and sure he had hoarded some knowledge in robotics and engineering and the odd coding over the last few years, but the level to which Mr. Stark could just grasp something in a complexity like that was something that, well, he was a one-in-a-generation kind of guy. It had been amazing to have someone like Mr. Stark teaching him. Not that Peter didn't love that he could go back out again, patrol again. It was a different kind of thrill. But the days, the few weeks where he had solely concentrated on the engineering and the projects in the lab, it had been, well, special. Something he never thought—

"Pete?"

Peter looked up and blinked at the man. "Huh?"

"I asked why you came by." Mr. Stark frowned. "You okay? Did something happen?"

"Oh, yeah, no. Nothing happened. I just..." Peter waved off the question and babbled on. "I ran out of web fluid and you didn't really answer my texts and, well, I just thought I know we don't really do the internship days anymore and like, that's fine and all, I understand that you don't have the time and you've done so much for me already, but I just... you said not to make it at school anymore and so I just thought I drop by and maybe... maybe you'd be in and maybe I could just make a batch."

"Shit, of course. I mean, damn, I hadn't even..." Mr. Stark's eyes widened. "Wait, you... did you just say that we don't do the internship days anymore because I don't have the time for it?"

Peter looked up at him and frowned. "Well, yeah. I mean, you're busy and I get that. It's not like it's a real internship or anything so, I—"

"Okay, stop for a second." Mr. Stark gave his head a subtle shake then looked back at Peter. "You're telling me you _wanted_ to continue with the actual internship? Like in you coming to the Tower twice a week and work on the SI stuff?"

Was that a trick question? Peter looked at him and tried to decipher the sarcasm but the questioning look on his face seemed to be absolutely sincere.

"Well, duh. You're Tony Stark. Learning from you is like..." Peter rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Like learning from Newton."

Mr. Stark barked out a laugh and Peter couldn't help the smirk on his face either.

"But I get it, you got stuff to do and I—"

"Alright, shut up about my schedule for a second. You never kept me from getting my stuff done. Actually quite—" Mr. Stark stopped himself and literally shook that thought from his head. "You're saying you want to reinstate your internship days? You want to come in on Wednesdays and Fridays, twice a week and work on those projects?"

Peter bit his lip, fighting with the urge to look away and blush. "Yes?"

"There are conditions to that Pete, you do know that, right?"

Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows at him expectantly and Peter nodded quickly.

"Of... of course, Sir! Or course, I understand."

The man narrowed his eyes on him. "The first one is you better keep the Newton comparisons coming."

Peter snorted and Mr. Stark's face reciprocated with a smile.

"I'm fine with Galilei and Da Vinci, too."

"I'll make a list so I'm prepared."

Peter's face hurt from how wide his lips stretched in a smile but Mr. Stark crossed his arm, eyes still narrowed not letting up.

"The delivery has to be absolutely natural though. You gotta make me believe you really mean it."

"I'm gonna practice at home in front of the mirror then!"

"I'm gonna allow merchandise as a bribe on special occasions like if you want to get in on the really cool projects."

"I'll try my best, Sir," Peter smirked.

Mr. Stark sighed and nodded once. "Alright, about your Spiderling-ing." The look on his face was a lot more believably sincere. "Definitely don't brew that stuff at school. I'm glad you came by here instead, Pete. Seriously, that could get both of us in a hell of a lot of trouble."

"I know, I know." He shrugged. "I mean, I didn't."

Mr. Stark ran a hand through his hair. "Wednesday or Fridays, those days still good for you?"

Peter nodded, eyes on the plate in front of him.

"Alright, FRI, just keep Pete's access to my lab open for Wednesdays and Fridays so he can make his web fluid if I don't happen to be around."

Peter sat up in his chair. What was happening now? "Sir, you can't just give me access to the lab."

Mr. Stark frowned. "Why the hell not?" He drummed his fingers on the table then shrugged. "She'll just sniper you if you touch something you're not supposed to, how about that?"

The man tilted his head to the side and there was absolutely no telling how serious he was about that. Peter gulped and nodded, eyes wide.

"FRIDAY, you got that? Put it in the diary."

**_"Right away, Boss."_**

"Alright, buddy. Go, do your thing. I have a diagonal chaos structure with a linear pattern to implement into my coding."

Peter quickly gathered up the plates and carried them into the kitchen. Mr. Stark called after him for some coffee and Peter couldn't help the giant smile that was plastered on his face. He could have it both then, the internship and the neighborhood Spider-Man-ing. It was all almost too good to be true. Sure, he'd still have to keep most of this from basically everyone he knew, but still this... This was brilliant.

* * *

##

* * *

The kid had been coming in on Wednesday and Fridays and that one Saturday he had even come out to the Compound. Peter even ended up staying the night so he could be there when they finished the last steps of the microchip implementation.

And Tony fucking loved it. Having the kid in the lab got him off the edge like nothing else had ever managed to. All he had to do was not to think too hard about the psychological reasons of why that was. A first-year psychology student could work out what he was doing. Hell, the average Dr. Phil viewer would know what was up here.

He knew exactly why it felt so good to have the kid around and that reason gave him equal parts nausea and heat flashes whenever he thought about it, so he didn't. It was just a symptom. It wasn't why he was doing all this. He hadn't given up on his son. He would never give up on Aiden. He was looking. FRIDAY was looking, but 800.000 missing kids in the US every year with an average of 157 pieces of information per case and that over 11 years, about 1,4 trillion information sources to dissect and analyze. For the US alone. He could have been dragged to Canada, South America, Eastern Europe, Australia, New Zealand, maybe even parts of Asia. But Tony was looking. He wouldn't stop. He'd have to find him someday. Someday something would pop up that would blow this whole thing wide open and then he'd know. At least, he'd know.

He wasn't trying to replace his son with Peter, even if his stupid brain sometimes made him believe that. He wasn't playing the boy's father figure, more like a nice uncle... urgh, no. That just sounded super wrong. A cool older brother? Tony grimaced. Not good either. Friendly older science guide... urgh.

"FRIDAY, what do you call it when one person gives a younger or like less experienced person a lot of wise help and advice?"

**_"That's called being a mentor, Boss."_**

"Huh. I guess that's what they call it."

He shrugged. That was fine by him. He was the kid's mentor then. That sounded good enough.

A mentor who still hadn't informed his mentee about a particular touchy piece of information that might make that particular mentee want to strangle his mentor. Or at least ditch him and emigrate to Canada. Or maybe Australia. They did have a lot of spiders, he'd fit right in.

Tony sighed. He'd tell Peter about Nat figuring things out, he would. The team would still be in Africa for a couple more weeks, but he had to do it soon so the boy would have some time to come to terms with meeting the team after all. It would be fine. They would be mad at Tony and that was alright as well. He kept something from them and he'd suffer through another "sometimes my teammates don't tell me things" speech from Cap, but at least things would be out in the open. Or most of them anyway.

After he was back from Boston. He had the speech at the MIT planned. He had the presentation planned. BARF was working as it should.

"FRI, any information from Miss Potts on when she'll fly into Boston yet?"

**_"There are no flights to the East Coast scheduled in Miss Potts' calendar, Boss."_**

Tony groaned. Now she was just being petty.

"Send her a memo and remind her that she is the head of the September Foundation and we are about to give out the biggest stipend in American fucking history, which wouldn't have happened without her."

**_"Right away, Sir."_**

"Wait." Tony closed his eyes and exhaled till his lungs were empty. "Just... don't curse at her. She doesn't like that."

Boston first. Then he'd tell the kid and they'd make a plan.

* * *

##

* * *

_(Author's note: Thanks again for the lovely comments guys! Thanks for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I'm a little worried that NaNoWriMo is almost over because it has definitely done wonders for my writing routine (45700 words written in November so far, woopwoop), but I hope I'll keep it going through December as well :) )_


	26. Freak Accident - Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 - Freak Accident**

There was tranquility, a sense of peace that came with watching the snow fall. Unless you were trapped in an endless circle of futility, then watching the snow fall silently creating layer upon layer as far as the eye could see just added to that feeling of utter uselessness. That's what all his efforts had been, useless.

"Tony?"

He turned around towards the door, hadn't even noticed that Pepper had walked into the room.

"I just talked to one of the agents. There is a retired officer who lives a couple of hours outside of Kyiv, who has overseen all the cases of national and international trafficking up until July when he retired. He would be happy to talk to us about the Kamenev lead and the cases that were connected with the ring."

He looked away from her. They had been in Ukraine for two weeks and they had nothing to show for their efforts. Only dead ends. Just like Vancouver, Warsaw, Barcelona, Dubai, Montevideo, Santiago, Mexico City. Off the top of his head. Every private investigator they had met told them the same thing. Children trafficked from the US to Ukraine were always connected to kidnapping cases where the perpetrators angled for money, information, access to something, some kind of ransom.

But nobody had ever made contact. Nobody had ever asked Tony for money or weapons or trade secrets, nothing. 2 years, 9 months, 29 days. Nothing. Nobody ever asked for anything in exchange so he could get his son back. Most likely... most likely this wasn't it. The details didn't fit. But neither did they fit with any of the other leads. What was he supposed to do? Give up?

He cleared his throat. "You think we should give it a shot? Or are they just sucking as much money out of us as possible?"

"Either way, they definitely are trying to get the most money out of this they can." Pepper kept her distance. "That doesn't matter though, does it? You won't sleep for the foreseeable future if we don't drive out there and talk to the guy, wondering if it would have uncovered something. Probably wouldn't let it go 'til we came back and met with the man if we don't go now."

"I won't sleep until Aiden's home anyway, no matter what the guy has to say."

That wasn't all that true. A good bottle of whiskey could actually make him forget for a bit and let him sleep. He didn't have to point that out to Pepper though, she knew.

"I guess, we should go then."

Tony nodded, eyes on the white snow blankets on the trees outside. A couple of hours outside of Kyiv. That meant four or five hours of traveling, maybe more. They might get stuck in a snowbank on one of the rural country roads again and would have to wait for someone that would pick them up or pull their car out of the snow. That could cost them even more time. Then it would probably be another hour maybe two that they'd spend talking to this former officer. Tony checked his watch. 4:00 pm. Even if they'd left right away they likely wouldn't be back in time to fly out back to the states that same day. They'd have to wait until traffic control would open the runway the next morning. 17 hours of flight time. That would get them home sometime in the afternoon on the next day. Most likely Pepper was just trying to keep him out of his house for Christmas morning.

"We probably won't make the take-off window for today then," he pointed out.

"Probably not." She stayed quiet for another moment. "I already talked to traffic control. We could get another spot in the flight order tomorrow morning at 9:30."

Tony nodded. He was right then. She likely thought that seeing the guy was pointless. She likely thought that if they left for LA now, after chasing lead after lead for months and months, after this very last one would come to nothing as well, that spending Christmas morning in an empty house in Malibu would be too much. That the third Christmas morning at home without Aiden after all their attempts to find him had failed would simply be too much.

Odds were that she was right. Odds were that Tony might not come back from this. Maybe he could deal with this sitting on a plane with Pepper, nobody else around. Maybe he would be able to deal with that. Maybe if they would get home in the late afternoon and he would spend the next week drinking until his brain finally shut up, maybe she would feel better about it, thinking it could have been worse. Maybe he could wake up on New Years Day and look at everything from a different perspective, find another way. 2008 would be the year. 2008 would be when Tony would turn all of this around. He could feel it. He really could. Things would turn around.

Maybe that thought, that hope would be enough to pretend that the next few hours were something more than Pepper simply trying to keep him alive.

He turned and nodded at her. "Fine, let's go then."

* * *

###

* * *

Tony had never been a good sleeper. Even as a kid, but the drama he had lived through over the year sure hadn't helped. He didn't sleep all that well in his own bed just because his brain so rarely wanted to shut off. He slept even worse when he wasn't in his own bed. So he heard the phone ring right away.

4:51 am.

That's when he got the call and put on that wireless earpiece.

4:51 am.

By 4:52 am he had turned on the news coverage in his hotel room.

By 4:53 he knew that nothing would be the same now. Everything was gonna change. This was too big. Too public. Too foreign for the average citizen to grasp. One too many. Too big, too public and completely out of their hands to handle.

Even Natasha sounded tired and beat on the other end of the line. "Steve and Sam are double-checking right now but we're pretty sure that we've gotten everyone evacuated."

Everyone that was still alive she meant.

"How many?" He tried to keep the tone light, matter-of-factly, and not let judgment seep into his voice. This wasn't the time to lay on. This was bad enough as things stood.

"Too many."

"One is too many, Nat. What's your estimate." He walked up and down in front of the muted TV. The live footage showed Redwing still circling the building, still looking for victims trapped in the burning high-rise.

"I don't know, Tony."

"Well, take a guess!"

"I _don't_ _know_!" she yelled, her breathing labored and deep. "Three people died from falling debris, another 11 are in critical condition but that's just what happened on the outside of the building. Six stories that are severely affected, 4 to 6 units each that were completely destroyed on the south side. There's no way to know how many people were in there. Could be somewhere between 20 or 30 or up to 150."

Tony had to sit. He had to breath. Up to 150 victims.

"It was an accident, Tony."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, you said that."

"Because that's what it was."

Her tone was sharp and he couldn't blame her. This was gonna be a hard one for them to navigate. Natasha knew that and she knew that Tony knew that as well. He let himself fall back into the cushions of his sofa, his lung deflating.

"How's Wanda?"

Natasha took a moment, maybe to look over her should and get a visual of the girl, though Tony doubted she'd even need to check.

"Devasted."

Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. They'd need to come home fast. Right away.

Natasha sighed. "She was trying to shield people in the market. She was trying to keep everyone safe."

Tony still had his eyes close, fingers rubbing across his forehead. "She was trying to keep the market safe, I guess. She was trying to save Cap."

"Come on, Tony..."

"Hey, I don't blame her for that." He shook his head. "I would never blame her for that, but you know how they will spin this."

The line stayed quiet and he took her silence as an acknowledgement. They'd have to get ahead of this somehow if that was even still possible. Make... arrangements, amends. But first of all, they had to make sure this wouldn't escalate any further.

"You need to get back to US soil, pronto," Tony told her.

"Steve wants to make sure search and rescue are concluded and clean-up is manned appropriately before we prepare to fly back to the US."

Tony sighed, "Nat, the last thing we need is news coverage of Nigerian military trying to apprehend you guys and Steve or Wanda fighting their way out."

"Steve or Wanda," she repeated her tone flat.

"They're both enhanced. People view them differently. You know that."

Her tone was flat. "It doesn't make it right."

"It also doesn't change the fact that that's how things stand right now."

It wouldn't help them to pretend. Things were what they were. People weren't rational with these sorts of things, but Nat was still in the open denial phase of it all.

"How many more people would have died if we hadn't intervened? How many would have—"

"Just stop!" He jumped off the couch, rubbed both hands roughly across his face, then readjusted the earpiece. The team didn't even know how much public opinion had turned against them yet. The steady rise of accusations and questions over their conduct in Sokovia, lingering resentment from the communities all over the globe where the Avengers had been involved in some form or the other. The lady that had sought him out after his speech the day before, talking about her dead son. Her dead human aid worker of a son. "You think you need to lecture _me_ on this? It doesn't matter. It didn't matter with New York. It didn't matter with London, Washington or Sokovia. It doesn't matter now. Get out of there and get out fast."

She huffed out a deep breath. "The others won't like this."

"None of us _like_ this," Tony snarled. "None us want any of this. Still, we have to deal with the reality of the situation."

The phone on the table in front of him buzzed with a second call. His heart gave a painful jump. This was gonna be bad.

"Ross is calling me, Nat. I gotta go."

"I'm sorry, Tony." Her voice grave. "We were careful, I swear we were as careful as we could not to make any waves."

Ross's name flashed on the screen. He couldn't really find any solace in her vow, though she sounded sincere and she probably was. They'd be in a world of trouble with this.

"I know," he sighed. "Just get home."

* * *

##

* * *

The issue with Pete's senses was, that he couldn't just turn them off. There were those times when that was a problem due to the painful overstimulation, the piercing pain that would come with that. But most of the time it wasn't the pain that was the issue, it was just hearing everyone talk all the time. There were 2.977 students in his school. Plus faculty members. And all of them were talking. All. The. Time.

It was annoying on the best of days. It made the hair on his neck stand up one a day like this one. After what happened in Lagos, Nigeria. A day when speculation and accusations about enhanced individuals were thrown around among the students and teacher so openly and carelessly like there wasn't an enhanced individual among them, listening. Hearing them all. Because as far as the school was concerned, there wasn't. As far as everyone around him was concerned he was just Peter Parker. But what the school did know was that he was officially an intern at Stark Industries. And that made him guilty by association.

While people weren't outright hostile to his face, he could feel their eyes on his back. While people didn't really say much to him or in his proximity, while they mostly avoided him, they didn't know that he could hear every word they whispered behind his back. Down the corridor. On the other side of the cafeteria.

"They all probably know at Stark Industries when the Avengers have these missions."

"Law enforcement will probably question all of them, find out what they knew and when."

"But I mean, Iron Man wasn't even there. It wasn't really Tony Stark's fault."

"Knowledge of a crime and not reporting it is a crime as well. They will totally raid that place."

"They are a team. If one of them messes up, they all mess up."

"And Stark should have known. Who lets a freak like that witch walk around like that."

"She's not even American. I bet she doesn't even have a visa."

"They're not gonna let her back into the country, right? Just send her back where she came from."

"How would they even arrest her? All these freaks they could take over just like that."

"Yeah, we couldn't even defend ourselves."

"I thought Captain America was supposed to protect us. How could he let her come here?"

"And Tony Stark lets them all stay in his Tower!"

"They could be up to anything."

Peter swallowed, face hidden behind the door of his locker. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't correct them, he couldn't engage. He just had to stay calm. Mr. Stark had told him to just stay calm. Not to draw any attention to himself.

He pulled out the Stark Phone hiding it between himself and his locker's door and went through the messages.

_I'm sure you've seen what happened. Be calm. Stay off the streets. Keep a low profile. I'll be in touch._

Mr. Stark had sent another one just a minute after that first one.

_No patrolling._

Like Peter wouldn't have gotten that from the first message. He would have, though he might have stretched the interpretation a bit and done some minor cases just to keep his mind off things. Maybe he would have, if it hadn't been for the talk at the school. The talk on the streets. People were even less guarded about their opinions out there, not taking any heed when they walked past Peter. Why would they? He had just been a kid on his way to school.

"Those freaks have no respect."

"They just do whatever they want."

"They act like they're above the law."

"Something really needs to be done about them."

"Hey, Peter."

Peter jumped and dropped the Stark Phone into his bag.

"Hey, Ned. You alright?"

"All of this is crazy, right?"

Peter quickly shut the door of his locker, Spanish book in hand.

"Yeah. Super crazy."

Ned walked closely beside him, his voice low. "Do you know if any of this is going to affect your internship at all? Are you still going to go in? Like to the Tower?"

That was the million-dollar question. "I don't really know. I mean, I didn't get a message that I shouldn't come in but I'm just not sure if people are even gonna be there."

Well, "people" would probably be there. If Mr. Stark would be there was another question. It was Wednesday. He generally would have gone to the Tower because Mr. Stark should be getting back from Boston some time today, but then he got those messages to lay low in the morning. Mr. Stark would probably have to deal with the fallout of this and if Mr. Stark wasn't going to be in the lab, Peter would probably not have anything to do there. He wasn't supposed to go on patrol so he didn't really have to stock up web fluid either.

"That's so crazy," Ned said.

"Yeah," Peter nodded along.

Ned leaned closer and dropped his voice even more. "Do you think Tony Stark will hand the Scarlet over to the authorities? Everyone says they will put her in prison, but can they even? She can just blow herself right out of there, right?"

Peter shook his head. "He wouldn't."

"Hmm." Ned shrugged as they made their way into the classroom. They sat down at their bench and Ned leaned over to him again.

"But so many people died. Someone has to be held responsible for that, right?" Ned asked again.

71 deaths and counting. The thought made Peter sick to his stomach. "They wouldn't lock her up. It was an accident."

The two girls in the row in front of them, Ashley and Tara, were discussing Wanda Maximoff as well. Of course, they were. The whole school only had one topic to gossip about.

"I'm sure the government has some cells in a bunker somewhere where they can put her," Tara shrugged, back turned to Peter and Ned. "I mean, it's been almost 4 years since the invasion, 6 years since the Hulk destroyed Harlem. They must have come up with something by now!"

Peter closed his eyes. He tried to focus. He had to focus on something else. Another sense or another conversation, but Ashley's voice just drilled itself into his head.

"But they have to catch her first."

"Maybe they will send Iron Man to catch her!" Tara giggled.

Ashley gasped. "Maybe they'll send Captain America to catch her!"

"Don't be stupid." Jackson turned around on his seat in front of them, leaning against the girls' desk. "Captain America would be goo if it hadn't been for her. He'd just let her escape."

"I'm telling you," Tara lightly slapped Ashley's arm. "Iron Man will catch her and then they'll put her in a bunker somewhere."

"Mr. Stark wouldn't do that!" Peter couldn't hold back any longer. He had tried, but his heart rate had gone through the roof. They were so wrong. They had no idea how wrong they even were. "Mr. Stark would never do that!"

"You still trying to convince people that you know Tony Stark, Penis? You're such a loser."

Peter flinched. Naturally, this was when Flash showed his face. Peter's timing was impeccable as always. But the girls didn't even care. They turned to Peter now, eyes round and sparkling with excitement.

"You really think so, Peter? What have people been saying at the Tower?" Tara asked.

"Yeah, have you been talking about this with people from the Tower? I mean she killed so many people, they have to do something, right? It's not right. She's not even a normal like human being."

He tried to hold onto the edge of the table, tried to get his anger in check, his temper to calm and his mind to focus on anything but how much he hated everything they said. He was supposed to keep his head down.

"It was an accident," he bit out through closed teeth.

Tara rolled her eye. "Only the most predictable accident ever. That's what happens when a freak like her is allowed to just run wild. People died."

"Yeah," Jackson chimed in as well. "People died. Someone has to pay for that. And who better than that abomination!"

Peter didn't even know when he had gotten to his feet. His muscles were shaking with adrenalin. Ned reached for him but Peter didn't even feel his friend's hand on his arm trying to pull him back down into his seat. He looked at the girls, Jackson, that shitty grin on Flash's face. Peter was out of the room before he knew it. Out of the building before he could even pause to think. He turned around and there were students at the windows, staring at him.

He just had to get out of there. His skin was prickling, his head swimming. They were pointing at him, whispering stuff to each other and he couldn't, he couldn't go back in there. He was off the school property faster than his brain could make up its mind on where to go but his feet carried him right to the subway station anyway. He didn't even hesitate, got on the train like a zombie on autopilot.

It was early in the day. Bright daylight. Anyone could see him. He had only pulled on the mask, not wanting to stop and strip to get into his suit. Anyone could have seen him change. But he just had to get somewhere safe. He couldn't walk into the front entrance. They knew that he was supposed to be at school. They would ask questions and he couldn't. He couldn't deal with that now. He needed somewhere quiet, somewhere safe where nobody could get to him. And nobody would get into the Tower. Nobody that Mr. Stark didn't want to have in the Tower would get into the Tower. He pressed his hands against the warm concrete wall, hoping it would anchor him, but his fingers still shook, his mind was still racing. He just had to get up there and be quick about it. The faster he went the smaller the chance that somebody would see him.

He was panting by the time he made it up to the balcony of the penthouse. His body was shaking. What was he gonna do? What was he even doing? He flinched in surprise when FRIDAY's voice echoed across the open space.

"Peter, Mr. Stark has been informed of your arrival. He is inquiring if you are injured."

"No," he whispered. "No injuries. Just... just... I can't... I can't really..." he swallowed. He couldn't breathe. At least it felt like he couldn't breathe. His arms were shaking, his legs were shaking. He was breathing though. He knew consciously that he was breathing in and out but it was like his brain didn't care, didn't really register that. The Stark Phone was vibrating in his backpack. His hands just wouldn't calm down, didn't stop trembling and it was hard to even get a hold of the zipper on his backpack because of how numb his fingers were.

Mr. Stark didn't even bother with any greetings. "You're not hurt?"

"No. I... I just—" His voice was shaking.

"Just breath, Pete. What happened?"

"I... nothing...nothing really happened, I just. I just didn't know where... I couldn't go anywhere else, I... I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have... I know you don't want me to—"

"Just breathe, alright. Get inside. Get into your room. FRIDAY will block out the daylight and you'll stay there until I get to the Tower."

The door that led into the living area opened without further prompting.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I—"

"I'll be there in about an hour. Tell FRIDAY if you need anything."

The call was hung up before he could even respond. Peter had sat down on the stone tiles at some point, even though he wasn't quite sure when. He threw his head back and took a deep breath in through his mouth, and out again. Another big inhale and exhale. His legs were still shaking, head still swimming from all the voices, all the conversations he hadn't been able to shut out, but he got himself to his feet, through the door, then down the corridor and into the room, second door on the right.

The sheets on the bed smelled like they had just come out of the dryer and he buried his head underneath the pillow. His knees were pulled up high and he rolled his whole body into a fetal position.

The room was dark, the bed felt like comfort and he was safe. His heart rate came down slowly but surely. He felt more and more like himself. Of course the more his body and mind came back to their normal state, the more ridiculous he felt. He'd skipped school. He skipped school because some girls in his class were trash-talking his boss. Well, his mentor. He'd not just skipped the classes he'd just run out of there. They would send May a note over this. He'd probably have to go to the principles office first things the next day, apologize and get a strike, maybe detention right away and for what? Because some girls were gossiping about his mentor. He was such a baby.

He didn't know how long he'd been lying there but just then there had been sounds coming from the living room area.

Mr. Stark had gotten in then. That or it was a SWAT team that infiltrated the Tower, looking for the Scarlet Witch. He couldn't help a nervous giggle escape him. Hopefully FRIDAY would have warned him, if the government really did try to raid the Tower. No, it was Mr. Stark. He heard how the man asked FRIDAY whether Peter was asleep. Then there was a light knock on the door.

"Yeah," Peter breathed out.

The door flew open at once at his mentor strode into the room, eyes on him.

"What happened?"

Peter sat up and pulled his knees up to his chest. He had been an idiot, been a big baby was what had happened. He'd run and come here and Mr. Stark surely had better things to do than—

"Pete? Come on now. You're here. You don't just drop by like this. Especially not on a day like today. What happened?"

Mr. Stark's whole posture was tense, his face drawn in concern or anger. Something. Peter took a couple of deep breaths. They had been talking about him, his mentor, gossiping. That wasn't a good enough reason. That was a stupid reason to be upset. So many people judged the Avengers, judged Mr. Stark on a daily basis. Peter had no business getting upset and storming out of school over that. But he had. He got upset and then his senses had gone haywire and he couldn't...

He shook the thought from his head. "I... I don't know, it just. I couldn't stay there any longer. My... my senses were..."

Mr. Stark stepped a bit closer. "You had another one? Another episode?"

Peter only shrugged.

"Pete, come on..." The man stepped from one foot to the other. "I need to know what's going on in that head of yours. I really..." he sighed. "I want you to be safe and I don't want to be an ass about this but I kind of have this massive international incident to take care of so please, just spit out what happened and we'll..." He sighed again and let all the air out of his lungs as he sat down on the bed next to Peter. "Just tell me, alright?"

"It's stupid. I was just stupid." Peter whispered. "I shouldn't have—"

"You're not stupid, kid. What happened?"

Peter had his arms wrapped around his knees, chin resting against his thighs. "You're not really gonna hand Wanda Maximoff over to the government, right Sir?"

He shot a quick glance at his mentor and Mr. Stark's features softened. "Of course not, buddy. She'll be at the Compound." The man rubbed a hand across his face. "That's what people've been saying? That we'll give up one of our own to be locked up by the government?"

Peter couldn't meet his eyes. Yeah, that's what people had been saying. Among other things.

"You know, Cap would probably emigrate to Canada before he'd see any of his team locked up."

Peter puffed out a breath, his fingers picked at each other, his gaze still low. "They called her a freak. How she's... how she's not even human." Mr. Stark had frozen next to him. "How the government should put her away in a bunker somewhere. How she's... an abomination."

"Nobody is gonna put Wanda in a bunker, alright. Nobody." The man's hand reached for his arm and gripped it tightly. "And nobody is gonna put _you_ in a bunker either. You're not a freak."

That was it, wasn't it? Everything they had said about Wanda Maximoff they could be saying him too. One step wrong, one mistake. One incident when he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and it would be him they'd want to put in a bunker cell somewhere.

"I just climbed up 68 stories on the outside of your building. Just me. No tricks, no gadgets." Peter was trying to hold back the tears burning in his eyes. He buried his face against his thighs. Mr. Stark only sighed, his hand came up to pat Peter's back.

"You're not a freak, Pete. You're... You can do things others can't, sure, but you're just a boy like anyone else, buddy. They don't even know what they're talking about. They're just ignorant and stupid. Just because they don't understand."

Peter looked up at him no longer able to keep his shaking voice to himself, to hide his wet eyes. "She didn't even... she was just trying to help. To save people. Still they want to lock her up because... because of an accident. It's not her fault! It's the terrorist who did this. They did this and they... people at school and... and on the street they all... they all say the same thing."

Mr. Stark put his arm around Peter's shoulders and pulled him close. It was ridiculous how good that felt. Peter's cheek came to rest against the man's collarbone, the fabric of his mentor's dress shirt cool and soft against his skin. Peter's left hand held onto Mr. Stark's arm as if he might leave if Peter wouldn't hold him there.

"People are afraid of things they don't know, Pete." Mr. Stark said softly. "Things they don't understand. It's an instinct. It's..." He sighed his left hand rubbing up and down Peter's arm. "Hell, some people can't even deal with people who look different or sound different, speak a different language or... all this is alien to them. It freaks them out. But that's on them, Pete, not on you. You're just a boy, alright. And you're safe. I'll keep you safe. I will. As long as I am around you're always safe with me."

Peter wiped a hand across his face and Mr. Stark squeezed him close against him, his chin resting on top of Peter's head.

"That could have been me," Peter whispered. "In Manhattan that day. With that vial thing. If I would have made a mistake..."

"Yeah." Mr. Stark nodded slightly against Peter's head. "But it wasn't. We got away with it that day. We were lucky or..." The man's chest rose with a deep breath. "Things just happened to work out that day. There's always a danger that something goes wrong just because it does. Sometimes you can do everything perfectly right and still, things don't work out. The stakes we deal in, Pete, they are always high. But if we don't go out there and try to stop them when we could have, well..."

"Then what happens to them is on us," Peter mumbled.

"It's never on you kid, you hear me? Never." Mr. Stark squeezed his arm almost painfully strong. "It's always on the bad guy, never on you. All we can do is try and help."

Peter had his eyes closed and just listened, let himself be swept away by the vibrations in his mentor's chest, his words that tried to make sense of the world. Mr. Stark still rubbed his arm and again Peter was struck by how comfortable, how secure he felt with the man who so many people just wrote off as an egocentric, self-important ass. They had no idea.

"How much trouble are you gonna be in with your school?"

"I don't really know," Peter whispered.

Mr. Stark rubbed his arm again, then patted his shoulder. "I have to leave for DC in a couple of hours but... let me just... I'm gonna order some food, alright? And we'll talk things through, figure out what to do about your school."

He could feel how Mr. Stark craned his head, looked at him, but Peter wasn't quite ready to let go. He still clung to his mentor's arm, head buried against his chest like an eight-year-old.

"Anything else on your mind, kid?"

Peter bit his lip and opened his eyes just a bit. "I'm sorry I climbed up here in the middle of the day when you told me not to."

He held his breath. There were rules to this, Mr. Stark helping him, covering for him and he had broken a big one.

"Alright then."

He expected the man to disentangle Peter's hands from his arm and get off the bed, give him at least a reproachful look, a bit of a lecture on what would happen if people found out, but he didn't. Mr. Stark only sighed and his chin came to rest on the top of Peter's head again, a gentle pressure that anchored him. Peter's eyes closed all on their own. He just couldn't tear himself away from the man's chest rising and falling with every breath, the rhythmic beat of his heart almost like a lifeline tethering Peter to reality.

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_(author's note: As always, thank you guys for reading, the comments, and favoriting the story._

_I managed to write my 50K words for NaNoWriMo, so I'm super psyched about that. A lot of the words actually went into later chapters as well, so I'm hoping while this month might not get as many frequent chapters as November, I'll still be able to make a somewhat weekly update.)_


	27. Desperate Times - Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 - Desperate Times**

Peter had been exceptionally wary with everything going on in his life. There had been a part of him that regretted running, skipping out on school, especially while he was sat in detention the next day. At the same time, he'd do it all over again. He had spent a few hours with Mr. Stark talking things through. His nerves had calmed down, his senses were alert but mellow. Of course he had felt bad. A creeping but very persisting sense of guilt over stealing Mr. Stark's time and energy. The man really had bigger fish to fry. But Peter just couldn't pass up on that sense of peace and safety that came naturally with the attention and care his mentor was giving him. Just the way Mr. Stark made sure that he was okay.

Yeah, he was a selfish ass like that.

"I can't get you out of detention," the man had told him. "Even under different circumstances, I'd rather not."

"I know. That's fine. I didn't even think you could or... or would. I don't... I don't really mind. I mean..." Peter shrugged. "It's not that I wouldn't be able to think of anything better to do with my time but I guess I can't really patrol right now anyway."

"Things have to cool down, Pete."

He swallowed, eyes on his plate. "Yes, I know. I get that."

"Then why are you pouting?"

Peter gave his head a little shake. "I'm not pouting."

Mr. Stark's eyebrows shot up and Peter shook his head again. He wasn't was he? He'd deal with the school. People there already thought that he was weird anyway. Sure it might be another thing for Flash to pick on him for, but really that wasn't what was on his mind. He was poking around his stir fry, pushing the pieces of chicken back and forth, eyes on the table in front of him, then blew out a deep breath.

"They'll send a notification to my aunt."

There was a stretch of silence before Mr. Stark cleared his throat. "Well, yeah. I guess they will." Then more silence.

Yeah, Peter had figured that Mr. Stark wouldn't be able to help much with that particular problem.

"Maybe... maybe it's time, Pete. Maybe it's time to tell her about all this."

Peter's eyes shot up at him, round and wide. He almost dropped the chopsticks. "No, I... I can't."

"She's gonna have to find out at some point."

Did she? "But not now. She'd freak out! Especially with everything going on right now. I might give her a stroke or something."

"Pete, I'm gonna be..." Mr. Stark sighed. "I might not be around as much with all of this. You might find that you'll need someone to talk to and I won't be here."

Peter looked up at him. "But.. but you said..." he frowned, then felt the heat rise to his face at what he had been about to say. Mr. Stark had said he'd keep him safe. That he'd have a place to go to, but, well, if his mentor wasn't around, if he was too busy to drop everything just because Peter was having a nervous breakdown... Of course he couldn't. He wasn't Peter's babysitter. He was freaking Iron Man and the world needed him.

"Come on, kid, don't give me that look."

"No, I... I get it. You have responsibilities and with everything I... of course I understand."

"It's not about me, Pete. It's not that I..." he cleared his throat. "I don't know how things are gonna progress after today and while you can always come here and stay safe in the lab if something happens, if you run into any issues, I just can't promise that I will be here for it every time, alright?

He couldn't look up at Mr. Stark. He just couldn't. He'd first have to get his heartbeat under control, not let his breathing get out of hand. His eyes did sting and if he would look up, Mr. Stark would know and Peter might not be able to keep it together. But he had to. He had to keep a lit on things, not be a burden.

"I get that you're scared of what she'll say or do if she finds out, Pete. And that you want to protect her. But telling her will always be easier than having her find out by accident."

Peter just nodded, eyes still on the table. "Yeah, I'll... I'll think about it."

"You do that," Mr. Stark sighed.

Peter had thought about it. Briefly and had then stuck with his first instinct: telling May would be a suicide mission. Hell, even without the international conflict that was growing more and more intense, threatening to break out in full force against the Avengers. He'd have to be crazy to tell her in that kind of political climate. And that afternoon when he had gotten back to the apartment, his assumptions had been proven right.

He got there later that he had promised he would. Had spend some time just walking around Queens. Not patrolling or anything. He had promised Mr. Stark to keep a low profile and hadn't tried anything. Well, there was this one thing. But he had only climbed a medium-sized tree and fished out a ball that had gotten stuck in the upper branches. It had made a couple of kids jump up and down with joy and Peter had made sure that he did everything in a very human fashion. No weird moves. No impressive jumps or anything.

May was home by the time he got to the apartment. She had tried to call 6 times and he had only sent one text message in response. Had told her he was fine and that he'd be home by 4 pm. Of course she would be waiting for him. Still, he'd taken his time. There was no rush. He'd get his lecture no matter if he was on time or not.

Sounds of clinking dishes came from the kitchen though those would have been hardly audible for a normal person for the TV in the living room was on, volume up high enough it so it could be heard in every corner of the apartment. The chatter of the reporters made Peter's skin crawl. The accusations against the Avengers, the speculations about what had actually happened and the giddy expression on their faces. To them, it was like Christmas had come early. They came up with one conspiracy theory after the other. And then of course the images. Grainy and shaky mobile phone footage of a fireball exploding in the middle of the market that was then catapulted into the air and hit the building. High resolution close up shots of the burning building. Footage of the Avengers themselves, their faces grim and visibly full of shock. The interviews with freaked out victims and onlookers. The news media was turning a tragedy into a perverse gawker's fantasy.

"Finally! I called you a dozen times! Where the hell were you?"

He flinched as May's yelled loud enough to be heard on top of the news report and tore his eyes away from the TV but careful not to look directly at her.

"Hi May..."

"Hi? That's all you've got to say?" She stepped up close to him. "Are you alright?"

Both her hands rose to his face, cradled his head softly, her eyes searching his, searching his face for clues, injuries, just something. Peter still couldn't quite look at her. She'd be mad. He had expected that. She'd be worried too and that would probably be worse.

"What happened, Peter? This isn't like you at all. You're not a kid that just skips school."

He shrugged and bit his lip. Her hands were still cradling his face and there was such a deep familiarity and such comfort in the gesture that it made him doubt his initial decision. Maybe he should just tell her, just to get it over with? She'd be mad, but she was mad already anyway. And she'd be worried but at least he wouldn't be lying to her anymore. At least he could stop keeping secrets and thinking up excuses to mislead the most important person in his life. Because that's what she was. There was nobody more important in his life than May and still, he couldn't find the courage to tell her, to come clean. It wasn't just about what he was doing though, the crime-fighting. It was who he was now. What he was now.

She'd still love him, despite everything he was now, right? Everything he had become. He might have changed. _Some_ things about him might have changed but he was still Peter.

Right?

She sighed and shot a glance over at the TV before she let go of his face and picked up the remote. As she muted the gossipy screeching from the 24h news channel the apartment suddenly felt a little colder. The silence got under Peter's skin and he had to actively feel out for some white noise, some signs of normal city life penetrating the walls from the streets and the neighboring apartments.

"Ned said you left school when the kids in your class spread around stories about the Avengers. About.. about what happened today. Is that true?"

Peter cleared his throat. "You talked to Ned?"

"Of course I did. You wouldn't call me back. I called every single person I could think of who might know where you are."

Well, she didn't. Not everyone. She didn't call the Tower, or at least not the person at the Tower he had been with.

"Peter, what happened? Where have you been all day?"

He let the question sink in for just a moment and threw caution to the wind. "I was at the Tower, actually."

She blinked at him, lost for words for what felt like a whole minute but probably was closer to a few seconds. "At the Tower?"

"Yeah, I..." Peter ruffled a hand through his hair. His arms felt like a useless extension and only in the way. "After I left school I went to the Tower."

"Did they—did they call you? Did they ask you to come in? I... I called them, too."

"You called someone at the Tower?"

"I talked to someone at the front desk and they said you hadn't logged in. That you weren't in the building and I—"

"Nobody called me, May. I got out of school and I... I just went there to clear my head. Have something to do."

"You had something to do at school, Peter. _School_."

He looked away from her. "I'm sorry, May. I just couldn't... I couldn't stay there, I... Everyone was talking and they have no idea what they're even talking about and I couldn't... I was just... scared. Scared I might say something I shouldn't." He swallowed hard and pressed out the lie like he was almost used to by now. "With the NDA and everything. I thought I might... I might say something I shouldn't."

May had her eyes on him, clearly studying him suspiciously. Throwing the NDA out there as a deterrent had been Mr. Stark's idea for how to deal with his teachers actually.

"You... you know things about this?" She waved at the muted TV next to them. "About all this? They told you about the Avengers operation in Africa?"

Peter shook his head. "Well, no. Not those things. Stark Industries things. People were just talking shit about Mr. Stark and... and people at the Tower and they are all so wrong. They know nothing about how things really are at the Tower. Nothing at all!"

She looked at him a bit sideways, quietly digesting what he had just brought up as somewhat of an explanation for his rather out-of-character conduct that day.

"You can talk to me. You know that. That NDA doesn't matter. Not for us, alright? If there's something they asked you to keep quiet about, something you're uncomfortable with. You can always—"

"It's nothing like that, they... Honestly, they... they've been great. Really, really great."

"Peter, I called them. I asked them if you were there and they told me no."

Her tone was harsh and it wasn't all that clear if she just didn't believe him or if she questioned the morals of Stark industries. Of course, the receptionist would tell May that he wasn't in the building. After all, Peter hadn't exactly used the front door to get in.

"They wouldn't know. I... I was with Mr. Stark, not in the... in the intern lab," he said, his voice lower than he was comfortable to admit.

"You were with Tony Stark today?"

"I was."

"He knew you were skipping school and he just what, let you hideout there?" Her tone had turned sharp. That really wasn't the reaction Peter had been going for.

"Come on, May..."

"Come on what? I don't care if your classmates are mean to Tony Stark! That's not an excuse for you to run off, you hear me? It's unacceptable!"

Peter looked away from her, down to the floor, arms crossed in front of him.

"I get that you look at those people like they are the world's mightiest saviors, Peter, but the reality is a little different. Look at what they did!" She pointed at the TV. The channel was still airing footage of the burning building in Nigeria. "Their actions got people killed. They need to take responsibility and you do not get to run out of your classroom in a huff because people are calling them out."

"And how many people would have died if they hadn't been there, huh?" he blurted out. "What if that bomb had gone off in the market? What if the terrorist had gotten their hands on another chemical weapon?"

"Is that the excuse Tony Stark will be using?" She just shook her head. "Those hypotheticals don't matter. People died." May looked over at the TV, then back at Peter. "Maybe it's time. The year's almost over and you'll be on break. You could, you could just find a summer job that's a little less, well, exciting."

Peter frowned at her. "A summer job? I already have a summer job with Mr. Stark." Okay, the job part might be a bit of a stretch, but he never said anything about getting paid. He got a multimillion-dollar suit but that was hardly gonna be something to sway May with.

Her face slack. "Wait, you'll continue with the internship while you're on break?"

"Of course I will!"

"Stark offered you a paid summer job?"

Urgh, there it was. "Well, we haven't really talked about the money part of it," he shrugged and with an afterthought added "Yet."

Mr. Stark wouldn't pay him. That was not even a pipe dream Peter had, not even something he was hoping for. If anything he was doing his part in working off some of the money that went into his suit. At least in his mind, that's what he was doing.

"You haven't even told me about that."

He shrugged. "Well, are you planning to forbid me to work there?"

"You know I don't want to do that." She sighed. "But it's not like we're rolling in money, Peter. I would never expect you to put finding a summer job that pays well over one benefiting your education, but honestly, Stark Industries not paying their intern does not really sit right with me."

Peter crossed his arms and looked away from her, back turned to the muted TV. How was he gonna get out of this one? He had never considered that May actually wouldn't like Mr. Stark. Maybe that shouldn't surprise him as much as it did. Peter had kept his talk of what happened in the Tower to a minimum, for obvious reasons. Sure, he had told her about how much fun he had working on the projects, not giving much detail on the projects themselves and filling up space in the story with engineering jargon. He couldn't tell May about all the things Mr. Stark had really done for him. The times Peter had been freaking out about his senses or god forbid, how he had taken care of Peter's injuries. But even the little things, how Mr. Stark would put him in a car when it was late and dark outside so Peter would get home safely, even though he was Spider-Man. How he'd let him stay way into the night so Peter could watch and help with the big projects he wanted to stick around for. How Mr. Stark would let him stay over at the Tower or even the Compound when it had gotten really late and ordered in breakfast even though the man hardly ever had anything else but coffee before noon. Even that May couldn't know about because it would mean telling her that he was staying hours upon hours longer at the Tower, technically working when he had told her he'd really been hanging out with Ned.

So it shouldn't be a surprise how she didn't like Mr. Stark. And what was more she didn't seem to like any of them. Just the way she shot glances at the TV, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She was judging them The way she talked about the Avengers, the whole thing about their responsibilities. It wasn't about that, was it? About who was responsible. It was about assigning blame.

And it was clear who May blamed for all of this. That meant... that meant he couldn't tell her.

He tore his eyes away from her, away from the TV and took off to his room. "I'll figure it out, okay?"

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Shower," he shot out over his shoulder just before he closed the door to his bedroom. He leaned against it, head fallen back, hitting it with an unsubtle bang.

How was he gonna get out of this one? He needed the internship. Not just for Spider-Man-ing but also his own sanity. And he couldn't ask Mr. Stark for money, that was ridiculous. Maybe he'd find something else. Just a few hours a couple of times a week. Couldn't be another engineering spot or anything technical with a different company. That NDA wasn't something he had made up. It was a very real thing and he wasn't gonna risk anything when it was Stark Industries. There was a whole floor filled with lawyers at the Tower. Maybe a job in a café or something. It didn't have to be anything fancy, just something that paid a bit so he could contribute. It was a comprise. She couldn't say no to a compromise.

* * *

##

* * *

Tony had had some bad days in his life. The "trip" to Afghanistan came to mind. Pepper falling from that rig into the flames had him wanting to rip his heart out of his chest. The wormhole over New York City. Ultron. Sokovia. His Malibu house being blown up. Stane. The Expo. And of course, above all else, losing Aiden. He'd had enough bad days, bad weeks to fill multiple lifetimes.

Still, that last week was up there.

The backlash from Lagos had been greater than anything they had had to deal with before. New York had been bad. Sokovia had been _bad_. It all culminated in Lagos. Tony had gone to D.C., had tried to soften the blow while the team was on their way back to the US, but he hadn't been able to move the scale in the Avengers' favor. Ross had insisted to be taken to the Compound, to the team. Tony managed to delay him for a couple of days but, well, he was the Secretary of State. There was only so much Tony could do without risking even greater blowback.

The legislation Ross proposed was hardly something that the UN had come up with and drafted in just a couple of days, let alone the part where they had 117 countries agree on it. Things like that took time, but the mess in Nigeria presented the perfect platform, the perfect opportunity for them to turn the world and say:

_Look at them. Look at the mess. We won't allow this. _

Tony would have to lie to say that the Accords had come out of the blue. There were signs. He had known that they were on thin ice. The way they had spent the last years fighting Hydra as well as intergalactic threats had ruffled feathers all over the place, threatened certain people's monopoly on power. Had left people downright pissed off when the Avengers had made them look incompetent. Tony himself hadn't been shy about telling certain politicians or law officials to fuck themselves when they had wanted to use his tech, wanted to use him. None of that was much of an issue for them until they started making mistakes. And they had made some very public mistakes. It wasn't just the crossing borders without other countries' permission, or even just notifying them. The people didn't trust them anymore. They didn't trust that the Avengers were fighting for them and not just fighting to be fighting. Worst of all, they had a point. There was truth in the people's fears that were being used against them. If there were no rules for them, if they were boundary-less, then they were no better than the bad guys.

The morning Tony had spent with Peter at the Tower, listening to all the things that had been said at the kid's school, on the streets, only underlined that. Well, it had actually intensified the situation. People were past disgruntled and doubting them. The Avengers had lost the support of the public completely. That was a lot worse than Tony had actually thought things stood.

The weirdest part about all of this had been that Natasha had agreed with him, rather than with Steve. Had backed him up and actually signed the Accords. Had helped convince Wanda to just stay at the Compound for now where they could keep her safe until the dust settled. That was something. Though it hadn't changed much about Rogers' or Wilson's stance on the Accords. Or on anything really.

So he found himself in a military complex in Berlin after Rogers and Wilson went on an unauthorized Bucky-hunting-trip. Ross had been chewing him out on the phone. Like this was somehow Tony's fault. Like he had some kind of special subpoena power over what Rogers did.

"I'm sorry, Tony. If I see a situation pointed south, I just can't ignore it," Rogers had said. "Sometimes I wish I could."

Tony could only stare at him, the Captain so transparent in that lie. "No, you don't."

Rogers's lips curled up in a smile and he gave a little shrug. "No, I don't."

"We can't be doing this," Tony sighed. "I need you, Cap. I need you in this fight."

"I'm not saying it's impossible." The Captain had his eyes on the set of pens Tony had brought as a symbolic olive branch that was lying on the table in front of him. Rogers would have to sign. There was no other way out of this. Not after their chase through Bucharest. The man shrugged and looked up at Tony. "There would need to be safeguards."

"There will be. I've been telling you we can amend this, but only if we have a seat at the table."

"What's gonna happen now then? What consequences does Ross want to see?"

Ross' list of consequences would be a hard sell, that much was clear.

"You and Wilson sign. We make everything that happened yesterday official. Barnes is put into an American psych center instead of a Wakandan prison." He had his arms crossed, eyes firmly on Rogers. "We reinstate you and Wilson when the PR battle is dealt with. As well as Wanda."

"Wanda? What about Wanda?" The look on Rogers's face was all Tony needed to know that he was fighting a losing battle. Rogers would never make concessions when it came to the team.

"She's fine. She's at the Compound. She just... well, she'll just have to stay there for a bit."

"You locked up Wanda in the Compound?"

"I didn't lock anyone up. Vision is keeping her company. She just needs to keep her head down until things have settled down."

"That's internment, Tony!"

He took a step closer, losing his temper at last. "Give me a break! I'm trying to keep her safe!"

Rogers had turned away from him, the set of pens disregarded on the table. "Let me know how that works out for you."

They hadn't talked since. Hell had broken loose shortly after and Rogers and Wilson were gone. Had left chasing after Barnes. When what happened in their chase in Bucharest had been bad, this was an absolute disaster. A disaster that left Tony all out of option. Well, all but one. One very desperate one.

* * *

##

* * *

There was a certain moral dilemma Peter had found himself in. The news coverage of what had happened in Europe, the terror attack at the United Nations in Vienna and the involvement of the Avengers - or some of them at least - that had followed was dominating everything, including every conversation around him. The side effect of that was all the attention that was no on him. It was like his little escape from class had been wiped from everyone's memory. Well, he still had to sit through the detention of course but considering the shit, he had expected to get...

It was a horrible thing to think. His face heated up every time he found himself cherishing the peace and quiet it had brought him personally. People had died. Things looked even worse for the Avengers now and that definitely wasn't good news for Peter either. Their public image wold definitely affect him in due time. It already was considering he hadn't patrolled at all, had kept his head down. It had actually given him some time to properly hang out with Ned. Some Lego Death Star building and pointless chatter that wasn't about the Avengers had kept Peter somewhat sane.

Ned certainly hadn't forgotten about Peter skipping class, about his outburst, but he was sensitive enough not to bring up the topic. Peter grimaced at the thought. Ned wasn't the subtle sort, more the falling-in-through-the-door type. For Ned not to question him at all meant that Peter had come across as truly crazed. He could only hope that with the summer break approaching everyone would just forget, including Ned.

The summer break was another issue he'd have to deal with. Or rather that summer job he had talked to May about. She wouldn't make him stop interning at Stark Industries if he found an additional regular job. That had been the compromise. The dumbest compromise ever but he was in no position to argue with her. One word from her and he'd lose his internship and thus his cover for Spider-Man. Not that much was happening in the Spider-Man department. He hadn't been out in days and it got harder and harder to quell the itch for a bit of action.

A distraction was needed so he went on the search for that dreadful summer job. The job listings in the area were pulled on the laptop in front of him. A cashier job with a certain supermarket chain was the only thing that offered the kind of hours he was willing to do. He'd have to call them soon. The longer he waited the more likely it was that they would fill that position with someone else. Not that he was secretly rooting for that or anything.

The phone vibrated in his pocket and it made him almost jump out of his chair up to the ceiling of his room in surprise. It wasn't his android, that one was always in silent mode. Why would the Stark phone be ringing? He quickly fished it out of his pocket. That. Oh. That was Mr. Stark calling him. Peter's mind went into overdrive. Shit, what had he done? What had he done that with everything going on Mr. Stark was calling _him_? Had he messed up somehow? Why else would Mr. Stark call him? He shook himself out of his panic. Ignoring the call wasn't going to help him one bit. He swallowed and took a deep breath before he answered the phone.

"Oh, erm, hi... Mr. Stark."

"Kid, I need you to get on a plane to Germany. ASAP."

Peter blinked a couple of times. Had he just heard that right? "Wh— Germany? Sir, are you alright? The news has been running footage from—"

"Yes, Germany. There's... the situation here is a bit... I need you here. Just, get to the Tower." Mr. Stark sounded on edge and Peter couldn't really blame him. Still, this was...

"Wow!" Peter's eyes widened as he heard the sound of his own voice. Oops. Had he just said that out loud? He cleared his throat. He really needed to keep the trembling out of his voice and sound a little more sure with himself. "I... Mr. Stark, I... I have school. I can't just—"

"What? Shouldn't you be on break?"

"Not for another 2 weeks." Dang, was he just ruining this for himself? Peter desperately needed some Spider-Man-ing time and if he was with Mr. Stark that should be safe, right?

"What could you possibly be doing in the last weeks that you'd be missing?"

Peter actually snorted at that. "I mean, you're barking up the wrong tree with that one, Sir." But there was no laugh on the other end of the line. Alright, maybe not the best situation to be joking, Parker. "I... Sir, they are pretty strict with attendance especially in the last few weeks because a lot of people take advantage of the fact that—"

"Don't worry about that. I'll draft something. Just... I need you here. You need to get on a plane like 3 hours ago."

Peter's mouth fell open. He just... he had just said it again. Mr. Stark needed him? That... just... "Yeah, sure. I mean, of course, Sir." Peter really needed to stop hyperventilating. He needed to play this like so much cooler than he was.

"Just grab your passport and get to the Tower."

"My—Sir, I... I don't have a passport."

"What? That was like... number 2 on the internship to-get list!"

"The... the internship to-get list?"

"Yeah, all the shit I need you to get so you're ready for whatever superhero stuff I throw at you. I'm sure I gave you a list."

"I—Sir, I don't... I don't think so. I... I'm not sure—"

He did hear a small chuckle on the other line at that. "Relax, Spiderling. Just get to the Tower. I'll sort everything out. But make sure you tell your aunt that you won't be home for a couple of nights."

"Alright, Sir." Great. There was that. May would love this.

"I..." Mr. Stark hesitated before he finished his thought. "Maybe don't mention the Germany part. You know, unless.—" He stopped speaking and sighed.

"You want me to purposefully omit a certain part of the story, Sir?" He hadn't been planning on telling May he was going to Germany, because duh, but Mr. Stark asking him to keep it quiet was another level of secrecy that they hadn't really delved into yet.

"Pete, I shouldn't ask you to do that. I know that. We're dealing with a... I shouldn't even ask you to come. I shouldn't. In fact, I don't want you to come. This is..." His mentor's heavy breathing echoed in his ear, how the man actively tried to control the air rushing through his lung. "This is not something I want you involved with. If I'm honest, I'd prefer you'd be as far away from this as possible, because if something—" The man stopped himself again. "I wouldn't ask if there was another option but if you... If you want to stay put, stay out of this then you should. Absolutely and if you want to tell your aunt, of course you should."

"Oh god no, Sir. I'd be grounded until I'm in my 30s." He wasn't even joking with that one.

"Pete, that's not..." Another set of deep exhales rang through the line. "You're not helping."

"It's gonna be fine, Mr. Stark. I mean, that's our thing, right? You help me out, I help you out..."

Mr. Stark groaned, "I'm really trying to make a habit of this _not_ becoming a thing..."

Peter couldn't help but giggle quietly. He was craving his suit. He was craving something to do, just anything to feel normal again. "Come on, Mr. Stark. It'll be fun!"

Mr. Stark was quiet for another moment. "I don't know if _fun _is the right word. I..." He let all the air out of his lungs.

Peter bit his lip. The man's reluctance finally clicked with Peter. It wasn't just going to be Mr. Stark in Germany, was it? "There'll be trouble if I show up there, won't there? With... with the Avengers? They'll know then, right."

His mentor's tone was somber and heavy. He was worried about that, no question about it. "That doesn't matter right now, Pete. They're not gonna... listen, this is not gonna be anything spectacular, alright?" The soft echo of Mr. Stark's footsteps from him pacing back and forth on the hard floor of wherever he was, rang through the line. "You might have to web the odd person up, but really I just need you as a number. That'll probably be enough. If there should be any real... resistance, I'll be there to deal with that. Most likely we'll have a chat and then we'll all go home, okay?"

Peter bit his lip. That was all good and well, but he couldn't just pop up in Germany without people asking questions.

"But if I show up, won't they... they'll know then that you and I, you know... That we know each other?"

Mr. Stark stayed quiet for a moment. "Listen, Pete, I should have told you about this sooner, but Natasha, she already knows."

Peter's jaw dropped. "Wh—what?"

"She figured it out as soon as she saw the suit."

Peter felt his throat close with panic. They knew? Had they known all this time?

"Listen, Pete," Mr. Stark sighed. "I know this sucks and I know you had a right to know about this. She kept it to herself though. It's only Natasha who knows."

"You... you don't know that," he whispered. "She might have told them. Maybe... maybe they all know who I am by now."

"She doesn't know who you are, alright? She knows that we, that you and I have had a bit more than a casual meeting on a rooftop somewhere in Queens. She knows that I built the suit and she also knows that I wouldn't have done that if I didn't trust you."

With that, Peter's mind went blank. He... he what now? "Did you just say—"

"Just get to the Tower, alright?" Mr. Stark's voice had turned heavier. "She figured it out when she saw you in the suit. The others will as well when you're there with us, but that doesn't matter now. I know it worries you, Pete, but right now... right now, there are other things they'll focus on, okay?"

Peter stayed quiet for a few seconds and mulled that revelation over. Mr. Stark was probably right, most likely was right. After all, he knew his teammates a whole lot better than Peter did. Things right now were difficult and they had to stick together to get through it. This might open a path for Peter to reconcile with them, to have them trust him, that would happen under no other circumstances.

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_(author's note: Thanks as always for reading and all the lovely comments!_

_Sorry for the wait, but I'm hoping for a bit more free time over the Christmas holidays and might get to update a bit more often again then :) )_


	28. Civil War - Chapter 28

**Chapter 28 - Civil War**

It was a few small things. Small but telling now that Peter knew what to look for. The prickling in his fingertips, the hair on his arms, on his neck, that threatened to stand with every wave of sounds and smells rushing into the empty airport building. They couldn't be far off. They had to be somewhere close by. He could feel it.

But it wasn't just nerves, not just his senses. There was a vibe. Mr. Stark wanted him there. Flying him to Germany, having Peter stand by his side had been a big deal. He wouldn't have asked Peter to come if it hadn't been. This was important. It would be a statement, a pledge to the team in a way. A sign of commitment that Peter would stand with them.

He had been waiting for about 20 minutes. Had stolen into the empty airport hall quickly and quietly, always on the lookout for other signs of life. They were around there somewhere, but not close enough to notice him. He'd had another quick call from Mr. Stark when he was on the plane traveling to Germany. Instructions on where to go, what to do once he landed. His pulse had never been that high as he stepped onto the airstrip and then quickly ducked into the waiting car. He was studying every little commotion outside of the car through the darkened windows but nobody ever came close to him. Nobody ever approached the car at all until they were stopped at a gate leading off the premises. Peter's pulse was throbbing in his ears as two armed border patrol officers stepped up to the driver's side. There was a partition between where Peter sat and the driver's compartment and even though he could hear them just fine it didn't do anything to ease his nerves. They were not speaking English. German probably. Duh. If he had to make an educated guess, he'd say German. A small stack of documents was handed over to the officers and one of them strolled down to Peter's window, looked it up and down but never making out Peter's face through the tinted window. The guy gave up quickly and stepped back to his colleague who handed the documents back to the driver.

And that was it. They just left. And just like that Peter Parker had come to Germany.

He hadn't seen much of the country of course. He didn't even know if he was allowed to leave his hotel room, in any case, he didn't. Instead, he ordered a bunch of stuff from room service and just waited. The airport was just on the other side of the street. He could see the building from his window. It wouldn't take him long to get there, but it hadn't been time to get going just yet.

It was less than three hours that he had waited. It was a miracle that he hadn't already passed out from the exhaustive journey as well as the jet lag, but his nerves, the stress of it all kept him on edge. So when the text message from Mr. Stark - or likely FRIDAY - had arrived that it was time to go, Peter was more than ready to go. Ready just to get on with it.

They must have evacuated the airport in the last couple of hours for there was nobody around except a few border patrol officers on the far off fences that were easy to sidetrack. He had gotten inside the airport hall just like that and then he had been waiting. Listening. Feeling the place out and waiting for Mr. Stark to arrive.

The sound of the thrusters was distinct. It was still a little eerie to hear it like that, in real life. He'd only ever encountered Mr. Stark in the suit twice, the first time they'd met on that February night in Queens and then that one day in Manhattan. So when the man swept into the building and came to land a few feet away from him, it felt more like an audience with Iron Man than meeting up with his mentor.

"Spiderling." The armor gave a short nod. "This will all be rather straight forward. No-nonsense. You'll be on my comm."

Peter just nodded along, careful to take in all the details, the instructions of where to go. Iron Man stood tall in front of him, but rigid. It might have just been the armor, all that metal. Or it might have been that the tension Peter could sense in his voice translated into the man's movements as well. It just wasn't the same talking to Mr. Stark like this, his voice muffled and a little metallic. Plus, when the man was in the suit it just conveyed another level of authority, a sense of power that paralyzed Peter.

"When you have the shield, just make sure that you stay out of the way, alright? Just stay back."

"Wait. Sir, I..." Peter shook his head. He must have just misheard him while he had pondered the Iron Man suit. "Wait, did you say _take_ the shield? You want me to take the shield_ away_ from Captain America?"

"It's the fastest way to go about it. He won't expect it and without the shield, Cap's options are limited. When he's impaired the others will falter as well. We might just end this without much drama."

"End this?" Peter's voice came out a lot quieter than he had intended. End what? They were supposed to get Barnes into custody and present a united front. That was what this was about, wasn't it? But Iron Man's focus wasn't really on him. He was typing and swiping on the monitor on his lower arm. He was uncharacteristically quiet, probably rambling away for only FRIDAY to hear.

"Right." Peter flinched as Iron Man's voice echoed through the hall once more. "Just wait for my signal. When you have the shield, just stay back. Don't engage unless you have to. We're not there for a fight, alright? It's not gonna come to that but..." Iron Man adjusted his stance, the titanium legs of the suit moving with the man getting any closer to Peter. "But if it does, minimal contact. You stay back." He paused, but Peter couldn't bring himself to respond. "Pete, you hear me? You web them up, that's it."

Peter shook his head again. "Web them up? You... you mean the Winter Soldier?"

"Anyone who tries to make a break for it." The man's head swung to the side as if he was listening to someone else. "Alright, they are close by. On my sign, okay?"

Peter swallowed hard. "You mean the other Avengers? I... web them up?" Just the thought sent a cold shiver down his back.

"Exactly." Iron Man had turned and studied the airfield outside. "Rogers and Wilson. Barton showed up at the Compound and collected Wanda so it's likely that they'll make an appearance to help out Rogers. We need them to stand down and we need to get there fast."

"But.." He'd web them up and then what? They wouldn't be pleased about that, would they? "But then what? What are we gonna do then?"

"We'll detain them. Somewhere. Till everything is worked out."

"Detain them."

Peter had to take a step back. Involuntarily. This couldn't be happening. This... how could he say that? How could he suggest to lock them up? That's what they were supposed to stand up against together. Stop people from locking enhanced humans up just for being who they were.

"Pete?"

Peter couldn't look at him, gaze turned to the floor between them. He had said that he wouldn't... that the team wouldn't give up on each other and now... now what? They were on opposite sites?

"Hey Spiderling, take that mask off."

Then there was this thing about the man's voice, the way the Iron Man suit distorted it. It all felt weird and foreign.

"Pete..." Sounds of metal on metal and some hydraulic wheezing echoed through the empty airport hall as the man took a step towards him. "Listen, can you just take the mask off for—"

He stopped in his tracks as Peter retreated further. Peter couldn't shake that queasy feeling. It wasn't just that this felt different. That this was Iron Man in front of him, an authority so different from his mentor. It was also that Peter seemed to have slid into the middle of a fight he wasn't all too sure he was supposed to be in. But just then Iron Man's faceplate was lifted and drew Peter's focus straight to the man in front of him. Mr. Stark's face was right there. It was still him. Undiluted, true, it was him.

But he didn't stop at that. He opened up his suit all the way and stepped out of it and by that even closer to Peter, leaving the suit behind. Just like that, it was his mentor who materialized in front of him. Simply Mr. Stark. Just him. Human. Completely vulnerable.

"Can you take that mask off, kid?"

Another wave of familiarity rushed over Peter and he nodded, hands quickly pulling at the fabric. Mr. Stark was right in front of him now, eyebrows knitted together.

"You okay?"

Peter couldn't help but shake his head. No, he wasn't. All this... all this seemed wrong. They shouldn't be doing this.

"It's normal to be scared, Pete. If you..." the man sighed. He clasped Peter's arm and gave it a bit of a squeeze.

"I just... it's... all this is just—" His voice shook and he hated that.

"You can stay put here. You don't..." Mr. Stark interrupted.

"It's not that, I—" Peter tried again.

"If you don't think you're up to this..." His hand still on Peter's arm, holding him there right in front of him. "In fact, yes. Just... you'll just stay here, this, this is not —"

"You said—" Peter cleared his throat. His voice was low and way too squeaky. "You said you wouldn't do this. You said that... that nobody would get locked up."

Mr. Stark nodded, expression way too calm. "I did. I did say that."

Peter's eyes stung. "How... how can you... how can you... Mr. Stark, you said..." He blinked rapidly, trying to keep the frustration off his face. Out of his voice. "You're letting _them_ divide you and you said... you told me—"

"I know what I said, Pete." He spoke quietly, collected. Like it was just another day in the lab and he was explaining something about a new tablet. "But that was before. That was different. We're past that point now. Steve made a choice knowing fully well that what he was doing was illegal. A choice that he can't take back. He _chose_ to ignore the people he claims to protect. He—"

"Well, they are wrong! The people are wrong!" Peter burst out, louder now that he would usually dare to speak to in front of his mentor. The man let go of him then after all. "The Avengers, they are not bad. You know that. They are trying to help! The people are just wrong."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" How could he just put this out there so calmly? _Maybe_ the people were wrong? They were! The Avengers, they were just trying to help! Just like Peter was just trying to help. "Mr. Stark they just want to divide you. It's what you told me yourself! They are trying to put us against each other."

"I know that, kid." The man shook his head. "I do know that. Ross and his cronies. It's not just that though. They want us to fight so that they have the people's backing when they come after us one by one."

"They already are coming after us!" Peter clenched in his hand around the mask with no other output for the fury that was rising in his heart.

"Yes, because Rogers is letting Ross get to him," Mr. Stark sighed. "He's playing right into Ross' hands. That's why we need to stop this!"

"But all this only happened because the people don't want to listen, don't want to understand!"

"It doesn't matter, Pete. It's not how this works. Of course, Cap thinks he's right. And yes, he does have a point. We can't be instrumentalized by corrupt governments, but this is not the way to change that, to prevent that. We can't force the people to bow to our will. Well," Mr. Stark waved his hand like he wanted to wave away the thought. "Maybe we could, but what kind of _'heroes'_" he air quoted, "would that make us? Ignoring them cause we think we know better and when they resist strong-arming them into submission because we can? That's no way to win anyone's trust."

Peter wrapped his arms around himself at his mentor's words, broke the eye contact. Of course, that was true. He didn't want to use his strength against the people. That would make things only worse, if they would force themselves on people who didn't trust them to help.

Mr. Stark shrugged. "Without their trust, we're just the newest flavor of authoritarian elitist assholes. We're not above the law. We can't be above the law. And if the laws are wrong, then we try to change them. Try to make them better. That's how democracy works. If we have a seat at the table, we can convince people with arguments, not by beating them over the head with _our_ truth till they see the light. That's how we roll. Cap..." Mr. Stark cleared his throat. "He thinks he is doing the right thing. He thinks he's standing up for what is right and that's what makes this so dangerous, him so dangerous. It has pushed us to a tipping point and if we don't stop this now... If I don't stop this now, there will be consequences for everyone. Not just him, not just Wanda or Wilson or fucking Barnes, there will be consequences for _everyone_ who is different. Today will decide. Today will decide how things will be for us... For you."

Peter rubbed a hand across his face, trying to find his voice. There had to be another way. It couldn't just be a choice between fighting amongst themselves and fighting against the people. Neither of these options was good enough.

"Mr. Stark, I..." His arms tightened around his torso, gaze locked on the ground in front of him.

"Pete. Hey, look at me kid." When he did look up Mr. Stark was right in front of him, his eyes squarely on Peter, eyebrows knitted together. "It's alright. You..." The man studied his face, then reached for his hand, stilling it. Peter hadn't even noticed how his own hand had been rubbing up and down his arm, squeezing it, picking at the fabric of the suit. "You don't have to be afraid, alright? Just... It'll be alright."

"I do want to help, Sir. I do want to help you, I just—"

"You don't have to do that. It's fine. You can..." The man gave a short nod. His hand was warm on Peter's. "Yes. I shouldn't have... You'll just stay."

Peter's eyes widened. "But... But Sir—"

"It's alright, Pete. You're safe here." Mr. Stark's gaze was not on Peter anymore but focused on something behind him, maybe on nothing. "Just stay right here and I'll come and get you when it's over."

Mr. Stark squeezed his arm one more time, then returned to the suit. Mr. Stark called out a short "I'll see you after." and the suit hadn't even completely closed around him when it came back to life and shot out of the building the same way it had entered.

Peter couldn't quite help the sense of relief that ran through him at the option to stay away from that confrontation but as Iron Man left it was like someone had cut Peter's lifeline, drained the willpower from him, that had kept him on his feet. His lung deflated and his knees went wobbly. It's not that he didn't want to help. He wanted to. He should. The least he could do was to help Mr. Stark. Peter gave up on the pretense and gave in to the urge to curl into himself. His legs folded underneath him and he came to sit on the cold tiles of the airport floor, face buried in his hands.

His mentor wasn't wrong. In fact, he was very much right. Peter was scared. He was really scared. It was not just the dread that rose in his heart when he thought of the last time he had seen the other Avengers in the flesh. Or most of them anyway. That day in Manhattan more than 3 months ago that had ended in so much pain. That had come with so many consequences. Had changed his life irreversibly. It was also the danger of the strain that Peter's presence would add to the situation altogether.

It would only escalate the tension among the Avengers when Peter had been hoping for the exact opposite. Had been hoping that fighting alongside them this time would ease their suspicions of him. Would help them accept Peter as... well, maybe not as part of the team. That'd be a bit too ambitious. Just one of those unrealistic daydreams he'd indulge in during those particular boring Spanish classes. But maybe as an ally. As someone they could trust enough to just leave him be.

But all that was nothing more than a childish fantasy now. He'd have to face the real world, face the real struggle that his secret identity would entail. He couldn't afford to bask in his daydreams any longer. And he couldn't afford to close his eyes and ignore the real dangers this conflict among the Avengers would bring.

It would be easy to just ignore everyone else and punch his way through the naysayers, at least for a while. It would be a lot harder to make people understand and reign in his own ego, to compromise on what he knew to be right for the sake of diplomacy. But just as there was a clear choice between the hard way and the easy one, there was also a clear choice here of what was right and what was wrong.

Mr. Stark was right with everything he had said. They couldn't force people into accepting them. They couldn't force them not to be afraid. That wouldn't work. They'd need them to listen but for that, they'd have to have a platform so they could argue their case. They had to win the people's trust back and that meant there had to be consequences when one of them would break the law.

Rogers and Wilson had done just that. Had tried to deal with Barnes themselves because they thought they'd do better than anyone else despite the explicit orders of the police and military and every official administration not to. And then people had died. It didn't even matter if they had made a mistake or if it had been a tragic consequence. Only an investigation into what happened and how it could have been avoided would bring that to light but they refused to be judged by anyone else. Demanded autonomy to deal with their own actions. That's not how things worked in a fair society though. Nobody else would be given free rein in how to deal with the consequences of their actions either, so why should they?

After all, Rogers and Wilson hadn't just made a mistake either. They chose this path. Wanda Maximoff chose to leave the safety of the Compound and come to Germany to help Steve Rogers in bringing his own interpretation of justice. So did Hawkeye. What was happening to them now, what Mr. Stark was forced to do now was not because of what or who they were, but because of how they chose to act.

They were wrong. What they were doing was wrong and it didn't matter how terrified Peter was to meet them again, how scared to go up against them. It was the right thing to do. Helping Mr. Stark in this was the right thing to do for him and for everyone who was like him. It was the right path, the _only_ path to convince the people that they were trying to protect them.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. Deep breaths. He nodded to himself then pulled the mask over his head with one quick motion. His knees were still a little wobbly as he brought his legs back underneath him and rose from the cold hard ground. They'd intercept them outside between the two buildings. That's where Peter needed to go. He shot a web upwards and pulled himself to the ceiling. It was the least conspicuous place to be. People never expected anyone to wait for them on the ceiling. Carefully he crawled towards the exit. Some of those glass panels on the roof opened up to the outside. Quickly and quietly he slipped into the open air.

He could feel them. They had been around before but their presence was now more prominent than ever. He had only been on the roof for a few minutes when Rogers strolled onto the airstrip towards a helicopter that was parked just in front of the building Peter was hiding on. Just as fast Mr. Stark swooped in and disabled the helicopter. He wasn't alone though. War Machine was right there with him. It didn't take long for the Black Panther and the Black Widow to come forward either.

"Wow, it's so weird how you run into people at the airport." Mr. Stark turned to War Machine and opened his faceplate "Don't you think that's weird?"

"Definitely weird," War Machine chimed in.

"Hear me out, Tony."

The Captain talked and they listened. For a while, it did look like Mr. Stark had been right. For a while, it looked like they wouldn't fight, that they would fix things among themselves, have Rogers see reason because they were still a team. It almost seemed that Rogers was on his own after all, but the longer Peter watched the exchange from the rooftop the more obvious it became that he wasn't. There was energy radiating across the area. People lying in waiting close by. He took a couple of deep breaths and then crawled a little closer to the edge of the building.

Rogers was right there, the shield in his hand. "You're after the wrong guy."

Mr. Stark shook his head. "Your judgment is askew. Your war buddy killed innocent people yesterday."

"And there are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't."

It wasn't going to happen. They wouldn't be able to convince him. Everything Mr. Stark had said, how Rogers thought he was right, how stubborn he was about being in the right, it was all true. And it would make any compromise with the team impossible. He wouldn't give in. Rogers gave a short nod and turned to the Black Widow, trying a different strategy. Just then, as Peter had his eyes on the shield he saw his own choice confirmed in Rogers's stubbornness. He had to stand with Mr. Stark. It was simply the right thing to do.

He shot a web at the shield, hit it squarely and used the ledge of the building as a lever. With a quick, strong pull, the shield flew towards him. Another web strategically placed on the side of the building helped him swing towards Mr. Stark. Peter caught the shield midair with ease and landed on one of the vehicles close to Mr. Stark and his teammates. The adrenaline surging through him made his legs shake. Enough so that his legs gave way and he landed in more of a crouched position. Only the height of the car he had landed on kept him elevated above the Avengers around them.

All eyes were on him and despite the dread, he felt as he was exposed in the presence of a bunch of super soldiers, super spies and so on, his eyes were on Mr. Stark.

"Underoos." His mentor eye twitched and he swallowed hard before his gaze went back to Rogers.

"Are you serious right now, Tony?" Rogers shook his head, jaw clenched. "You recruited the spider?"

"You gave me little choice in the matter, Cap." Mr. Stark had been moving around this whole time. "Dragging in Clint. _'Rescuing'_ Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave? A safe place." He made a point to take a couple more steps towards the Captain and planted himself between Peter and the Avenger. Rogers just huffed out a dry laugh.

"Is that what you tell yourself at night?" Rogers sneered. "Is that how you justify going against your own team?"

"Give me a break, Rogers. I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart!"

"You did that when you signed." The Captain's face was dark as he shot another look at Peter then turned to the Widow. "This really doesn't bother you, Nat? That he kept this from us?" The Captain flexed his fists. They almost seemed in search of the shield, empty without it. Rogers' eyes wandered back and forth between the Widow and Mr. Stark. Peter's hold on the shield was as tight as he could physically stand.

Black Widow sighed. "I've known for weeks, Steve." She kept her eyes on Rogers, then shrugged it off. "It doesn't matter now. You know what is about to happen here. Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?"

"I don't believe you." Rogers had his eyes straight on her and a smirk on his own face that exuded confidence. "This bothers you, Nat, and you're right. It should."

She pursed her lips and readjusted her stance. Rogers was likely right. She had confronted Mr. Stark about it. It hadn't been either Mr. Stark's or Peter's intention that the Widow would find out, she just did.

"Alright, we're done." Mr. Stark stood tall in front of him, his voice carrying an icy authority that gave Peter goosebumps. "You're gonna turn Barnes over. You're gonna come with us. Now. Because it's us... or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite." Mr. Stark shook his head and shuffled back and forth on his feet, his voice turned low. "Come on, Cap. You can still stop this."

It happened all at once and Peter was not prepared for the commotion to start so close to him. All of a sudden his senses spiked and before he could do more than cry out a warning, something exploded from the shield in his hand. He let go in surprise and flipped off the car's roof he had been standing on.

The fight was ruthless. What had exploded on the shield just next to him had turned out to be another person in a suit, who could change his own size and had enormous strength. The fight turned a lot more intense than he would have expected even after his first experience with the Avengers. He stayed back at first and tried to contain some of the commotion. Barnes and Wilson were right in his path and Peter did his best to incapacitate them. He did manage to web them to the floor of the airport building before he went back out there, into the very center of the fight.

There was a minimal amount of static in his ear before Mr. Stark's voice rang out strong and clear. "Pete, you keep your distance, you hear me?"

"I'm alright, Sir," Peter responded though that was a bit of an ambitious interpretation as a gas tanker explodes just next to him. He did cry out in alarm at that, hoping that the suit's comm hadn't transmitted his reaction. "I'm fine, Mr. Stark."

And he was alright-ish, swinging from one portion of the building to a plane nearby, jumping back and forth lending as much support to Mr. Stark and War Machine and even on occasion the Widow as he could manage. But it didn't take long for Captain America to pop up in Peter's proximity. Peter hesitated for a moment before he did step up. Mr. Stark was fighting the Scarlet Witch and Barton at the same time and Peter couldn't allow Rogers to add to their assault. All that was left for him to do was to engage Rogers himself. He went for the shield first, then his legs. It left Rogers on the floor and Peter out of breath with little more than a couple of car lengths between.

"Listen, son, there's a lot going on here that you don't understand."

Rogers's pompous appeal made Peter's blood boil. "Mr. Stark said that you would say that."

The man just shrugged. "He say anything else?"

"That you're wrong." Peter's back straightened, his fists balled. "But you think you're right. That makes you dangerous."

Rogers pulled back his shoulders, head held high. "I guess he'd say that." Before Peter could do anything, the shield was flying into his direction again and destabilized the jet bridge above him. He just caught it in time before it flattened him underneath it. Rogers bolted so that was something. In all honesty, Peter would rather deal with a few tons of steel than Captain America. He managed to topple the jet bridge to the front of him and it came crashing down in a bloom of smoke.

He wasn't done though. There was still some flight left inside him and Mr. Stark still needed him in this.

"Just stay back, Pete." Mr. Stark's voice was in his mask's earpiece again, shaky and out of breath. "Web them up when they try to get away, alright? Don't... just... Just be careful."

"I am, Mr. Stark."

He was, at least trying to be. His fingers were numb though and his mind was jumping from one scenario to the next, making sure that he went after the right people as well. They were all Avengers after all, except for Barnes and the new dude, and it didn't come all that easy to him to pick out the right adversaries.

The longer the fight went on the deeper the exhaustion hit him. His aim suffered and while his strength held up it cost him more and more energy to keep going. They had just managed to bring the huge little guy to fall when Peter found himself being blasted against a nearby wall. He might have passed out for a moment for he came back on the floor. His vision was swimming and his back ached. Just as he arched himself up, trying to find the strength to get back to his feet another one of them appeared above him. All Peter could do was swing his arms, trying his best to fend off the attacker.

"Hey, whoa, Pete! Same side, come on!"

Peter's fist stilled and he looked up, back still flat against the ground.

"You're done, kid! You stay down, alright? Just right here."

"Mr. Stark?"

"You did well, Pete." His mentor had both hands on his shoulders, pressing him back down to the ground. "Stay down!"

Peter had wanted to argue but he didn't even have enough energy to get off his back. Mr. Stark's order rolled over him like sweet relief. Permission to rest. His chest was quickly rising and falling, his lungs burned. When he went to stick a hand underneath his mask to rub his face it hit him that it had been partially peeled off him and he quickly pulled it back into place.

There were still struggles in the distance but most of the sounds were tuned out by the throbbing of his heart that banged on and on in his ears.

The next thing he noticed were sirens in the distance that got closer and closer. That wouldn't be a good sign. Sirens were never a good sign.

"Spider."

He jerked away from the voice and turned towards her, still panting.

"Black... Black Widow."

"Go!" She wasn't even looking at him, eyes fixed on something far off in the distance.

"I..." Peter's pulse had spiked up again, hammering away in his ears. "Where's Mr. Stark? I can't—"

"He has other things to take care of. Get out now! Don't let anyone see you."

He struggled to his feet then, stood opposite her. His hands were shaking but he kept his head held high. "No. I'm here with Mr. Stark."

Her stance didn't falter at all, nor did she give him the courtesy to at least look at him. "This place will be swarming with police in less than a minute. Unless you want to meet Lieutenant General Ross and give Tony a few more things to explain away, you'll leave." Her eyes did flicker towards him at last. "Now."

Peter's mouth was dry. "Mr. Stark," he called out. The comm should pick up his voice. Mr. Stark had said he'd keep him on his comm. "Mr. Stark!"

But there was no answer.

The Widow's eyes lingered on him for another moment. "Leave. Now."

"But—"

Peter never got to finish the sentence as she took off and sprinted towards the other side of the airfield. The airport around them was a mess. Mr. Stark was nowhere to be seen. The Black Panther had the Scarlet Witch and Hawkeye in custody close to the hangers, but the Black Widow disregarded all of them, including the new guy lying on the ground, ran right past him. She came to a halt just at the end of the premises, eyes fixed on something far off in the distance. Something had happened. The atmosphere around them had lost its urgency and shifted to a heavier dread.

Not just the destruction around them, there was something else.

Peter swallowed hard and stumbled a couple of steps backwards, retreating from the scene. He couldn't be seen. If they arrested him for this and found out about... about everything...

He had to get out now. Before it was too late.

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_[author's note: Thank you guys for reading, the likes, and comments._

_I had been hoping to get to the reveal this year but alas, December was not as productive writing-wise as November has been. I do plan to still put one more chapter out there before the year is done. I'm trying to tread a narrow path, balancing the canon with my idea. There are elements of it in this, as well as the next chapter, but things do turn out a little different, not just because I disliked what the Russos have done but also because it simply plays into the story I want to tell. So stay with me, I hope you're having as good a time reading the story as I have writing it! :) ]_


	29. My Father Made That Shield - Chapter 29

_[author's note: __This is a very short chapter for exactly the following reason. Just to be on the safe side I wanted to keep this separate and add a trigger warning for suicidal thoughts during a near-death experience. If this might trigger you, please skip this chapter. I will put a short summary of everything you need to know in the beginning note of the next chapter.]_

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**Chapter 29 - My Father Made That Shield**

There were moments when time just seemed to stand still for him. Only him. When everything around him was unfolding and he couldn't do a single thing to stop it. Maybe everyone had those kinds of moments in extreme situations. Maybe it was a thing. Maybe it just wasn't talked about because very few people experienced situations of severe stress in the frequency that Tony did. His life had been full of them, even when he was young. As a Stark, as a young kid born with that name, he had grown up with the explicit danger of what someone could do to him or his mother for the sake of money or influence. Extorting weapons or demanding new technology blueprints. The constant danger, the precautions, the limitations on where he could go, when and with whom.

Money could buy you bodyguards. High walls. Strong doors. A certain sense of security.

But no real security. He had learned that the hard way. He had learned how fickle that feeling was when his son was born. He had always been so careful, surrounded Aiden with all the protection he could, kept him with people he trusted and then the unthinkable happened.

That had been the worst day of his life, without a doubt. But not the last disaster that he would experience. Those were a lot harder to rank though. How could anyone measure the pain between seeing your best friend fall to his certain death in the armor you build to protect him? Was that better or worse than not being able to save the love of your life from falling into a big pit of flames to _her_ certain death? Was that more painful than the physical pain of open-heart surgery in the middle of the desert without proper anesthesia or being waterboarded? So many shitty things had happened to him over the years that it had become hard to even list them all.

Rhodey was up there though. Seeing his best friend shot out of the sky, his armor that was meant to protect him only dead weight pulling him to the ground. And Tony hadn't been fast enough. His suit had been no help at all.

There had been a certain freedom he gained by becoming Iron Man, when he became so strong that nobody could harm him. Well, not nobody. There were still plenty of people that could harm him and not just by proxy. Case in point. His current state.

The silence around him was deafening. There were only his heartbeat, a distinct ringing in his ears and his labored breathing that echoed off the walls of the bunker. Tony was lying on his back, sprawled out on the cold concrete floor somewhere in Siberia.

Again and again, the memories from the raft drifted up to the forefront of his mind. Not just some holding cells in a military complex or even somewhere underground. A fucking underwater prison. What kind of maniac would even come up with that? Cells lined not just with bulletproof glass but titanium bars to keep in monsters. Wanda wrapped in a straight jacket, a collar around her neck to suppress her powers. He had tried to protect them from exactly that, but they'd known better. Steve had known better.

Steve fucking Rogers. Mr. "sometimes-my-team-mates-don't-tell-me-things". For months, years, Tony had financed his joy rides to Hydra bunkers. Pathetically, he had thought they were trying to rid the world of a terror group when really they were just in search of Rogers' mind-warped BFF. Fucking killing-machine assassin. And damn Steve Rogers who didn't have the decency to tell him that his parents had not fallen victim to a road accident. No, they had been assassinated by Hydra. By the Winter Soldier. And Captain America had known all this time. Had played the morally superior altar boy while the man's best friend had murdered his mother. Had murdered Howard Stark, the original Captain America fanboy.

But Steve had always known better and the others had trusted him more than they had Tony. So now they were trapped under tons of Atlantic Ocean water and he was alone, trapped inside his own creation in the middle of nowhere, with nobody coming to get him. Nobody who even knew that he had gone to Siberia.

They had lost, all of them. In every measurable metric.

Tony had managed to crawl further into the bunker, reached the shield that Rogers had dropped before he and Barnes had made their escape.

_That shield doesn't belong to you._

_You don't deserve it._

_My father made that shield._

The last of the suit's emergency power had run out and left him stranded just there next to it. There was a manual release but he didn't dare press it. The breastplates of his suit were bulged in around the arc, had pierced his skin. If he would open up the suit, the metal would dislodge and he would probably bleed freely. He took a few shallow breaths, couldn't really move his neck to look down at the suit but his gauntlet covered fingers had come away covered in blood. There was no pain though, only stiffness in his face and neck, the ringing in his ears and a dull throbbing but mostly numbness in his left leg. No pain and a comfortable warmth that radiated from his torso when he should be freezing, screaming in pain. He was vaguely aware that he was passing in and out of consciousness, but there was no telling for how long he was out of it at a time. No way to tell if he had been lying there for minutes or hours. Every now and again a strong wave of nausea would hit him and every time it made his mind come back online. He would force himself to breathe through it, to suppress the feeling but it only multiplied the stars dancing in front of his eyes as well as the ringing in his ears.

He couldn't move his body, including his head. If he couldn't fight that feeling, if he would throw up, he might suffocate on his own vomit, which would make for a pretty unattractive corpse. It would only be a matter of time though. His strength was giving out. Chances were that he wouldn't get out of there alive. His helmet was crushed. There was no way for him to contact anyone. Even if FRIDAY's emergency protocol had been activated by the destruction of the arc, who was left to even get him? His team was in an underwater prison and even if they hadn't been they'd be on the run with Rogers. Vision was still out there but after everything, after what had happened in Leipzig and with his android status he'd have to wait for approval to come out. With all the Avengers gone and Rhodey, god... Rhodey. Tony closed his eyes tried for deep breaths to calm himself.

Vision would have to go through Ross. If Ross actually green-lit the operation, he'd also green light an investigation into what brought Tony out there in the first place and then they'd probably put him in a cell right next to his teammates. If he even lived to see that.

Maybe the release button wasn't the worst option. He'd pass out and that'd be that. No pain, no agony. He was already past that, shock numbing his system. He'd just pass. And maybe... maybe people were right and he'd go on. See his parents, maybe... maybe he'd see Aiden again. He took another breath, just as shallow as the one before. Maybe it would be better like this.

He wouldn't leave many people behind who'd mourn him after all. Pepper. Possibly Rhodey. Maybe Happy. He'd like to think Peter would be sad. The kid would be back on his own then. Tony never thought to put a contingency plan in place for him. Well, his ego had always been a monster on its own. But he should have thought of this happening. With everything he had lived through this end would not come as a surprise to anyone. He had promised he'd keep Peter safe. Now, well... Now, he might be out of time to do that.

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_[Author's Note: I generally hate chapters that are this short, but there are honestly two reasons why I just needed to put it out today and like this. One is the trigger warning, just because I'd rather be safe than sorry, the other one is that this will very, very likely be the last canon related bit that I will include in this story and honestly, I wanted to leave the Russos behind in 2019. So this is short and part II of this will follow very soon (possibly tomorrow)._

_See you in 2020 everyone. I hope it will be your best one yet!]_


	30. Currently Unavailable - Chapter 30

_[author's note: _

_For those of you who have skipped the last chapter:_

_Tony got severely injured in the fight against Captain America and the Winter Soldier in Siberia. While he lies alone in the bunker trapped in his suit with no way to call for help and nobody out there who could safe him. He thinks of Rhodey, his son as well as Peter. He fights against symptoms of a concussion but ends up passing out.]_

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**Chapter 30 - Currently Unavailable**

It was a bit of a miserable day in New York City. Not that Peter minded the rain all that much. It was a nice relief from the heat they had endured for most of the month and it was only June. It made riding the subway somewhat bearable. He was leaning against a grabpole, eyes focused on the raindrops that were pushed around by a mix of gravity and the airflow as the train rolled towards Manhattan. It helped to keep his senses in check, the focus on one single thing just like Mr. Stark had told him to practice. It helped to shut out the voices around him. Or at least drowned them out enough to downgrade them to bearable background noise. The number one topic people chatted about remained the same that it had been for days: the Avengers. Perspectives had changed a bit, become a little more measured. People knew now that a bunch of them were in custody. That Iron Man, War Machine, Black Panther and Vision had gone out there and fought the Rouges as they had been dubbed. He hadn't heard the Widow mentioned by anyone, which was odd.

But none of these people knew what the price for all of that had been. None of them had an inkling of how severe Colonel Rhodes had been injured in the process. Nor did Peter, really. He had no idea what had actually happened. How fast the man would recover.

Peter had been waiting in his hotel room in Leipzig, waiting for Mr. Stark to tell him where to go. For someone to tell him what to do next. He hadn't heard from Mr. Stark at all since he had told Peter to stand down at the airport. Maybe he shouldn't have left? Maybe Mr. Stark thought that he had run out on him? Had he come back and Peter had just been gone? Maybe it was something else entirely. Maybe the man had not—

Then the door to his hotel room had swung open and his mentor strode in, was quick to close the door behind him.

"Mr. Stark!" Peter had an urge to rush towards the man, to make sure that he was alright. That feeling of dread that had lingered around the airport still persistent in his very bones.

"Pete. You alright?"

The man looked exhausted, limbs stiff, body moving not as smoothly as he usually did. But it was his face that held most of the pain, his eyes deeper and darker than usual.

"I'm... yeah... yeah, I'm okay." He rubbed a hand awkwardly over his arm. His energy was still flat and he had caught a few bruises, a bit of a headache from that last fall. Other than that though he was okay.

"You got out okay? Nobody saw you?"

"No. I... no, nobody saw me."

Mr. Stark gave a short nod. "Good. Good thinking, kid."

"I..." Peter frowned. Had he not talked to the Widow yet? "It, well... It was the Black Widow. She told me to go. I mean, I was trying to talk to you, but the comm was off and I couldn't—"

"Natasha talked to you?" Mr. Stark's gaze was straight on him, eyebrows closely knitted together. "What did she say?"

Peter blinked. "She just told me that the police were on their way and that I should get out."

"That's it?" His voice was sharp, too sharp.

"I... She said to leave. I tried to talk to you, but she said you were busy and that if I stayed Ross was gonna interview me and you'd have more explaining to do."

"She said that to you?"

Peter nodded, eyes still wide.

"Huh." Mr. Stark gave his head a small shake. His gaze drifted off to somewhere in midair, eyebrows still pulled together in a deep frown. "I have a plane on hold for you. Not here. There's a regional airport nearby. Car will be here in 25 minutes." He cleared his throat, eyes back on Peter now and he took a couple of steps towards him. His hand landed lightly on Peter's shoulder as he looked him up and down, studying his hunched stance. "You sure you're alright? If you need medical—"

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark. I promise." The hand on his shoulder grounded him, gave him a sense of security that he had been lacking ever since he had boarded that plane to Germany. Ever since Mr. Stark had come to him at the Tower, really. "What happened, Sir?"

"What happened?" his mentor huffed out a couple of shallow breaths that almost seemed like a dry laugh. "You saw what happened. We disagreed."

Peter blinked at him. That wasn't what he was asking and Mr. Stark knew that. "Captain Rogers, he... he got away?"

"Rogers and Barnes."

Peter shook his head. No. That wasn't it. "What happened?"

The man's mouth twitched. "Who said something happened?"

Peter kept his gaze focused on him, unwilling to break eye contact. "My senses for one thing." He ignored the urge to shrug off the thought, not wanting to push Mr. Stark out of his space. "The onslaught of police and ambulances would be another clue."

Mr. Stark's face changed into the mask he wore so often in public and pulled his hand back from Peter's shoulder after all. "It's... nothing you need to worry about, Pete."

"Sir?" Peter just stopped himself from reaching out for him. "Are you not... are you not gonna fly back, too?"

"I will. I just... Yes, I will."

That didn't sound like he was planning to leave very soon at all though. "Do you need to stay here? Are they... is it because of what happened?"

The man took a step back, retreating, capping the contact to Peter. "We can talk about this later. Now... now is not the time."

"Please, Sir. Just tell me, I—"

"I don't know, Peter."

Mr. Stark's voice had a sharpness that Peter had rarely heard in it. Peter couldn't help but take a step back now as well. This... this must be bad. Mr. Stark kept his eyes on him and as Peter retreated further back the mask fell off his face within seconds. "Pete, listen it's..." He sighed again and looked away, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "Rhodey got hit. The suit... the suit lost power and he fell."

Peter swallowed hard. "He fell? How... how far? Is he... is he alright?"

"I don't know, Pete. I... I don't know," Mr. Stark's eyes were not on him, just focused on something behind him.

Peter turned to see and the airport was right there. Smoke was still rising from the wreckage they had left behind on that airfield. But that was not what Mr. Stark was looking at. His eyes were focussed on something further off in the field behind the airport. There were still a bunch of police cars who had closed off the area. Peter's breath caught in his throat. Was that where Colonel Rhodes had fallen? All the way out there?

"Is... Is that—"

"I have to get back to the airport," Mr. Stark's voice overrode his. "The transport leaves as soon as I get there. He's... he's alive and... and we'll know more when Helen checks him through at the Compound."

Peter shuffled from one foot to the other. "Can I... Can I not just come with you, Sir?"

Mr. Stark met his eyes. "I need to stay with Rhodey. I'd take you, kid, of course I would, but there are too many people on that plane. You'll be safer on your own, once we left. You'll be alright."

Peter lowered his gaze. Mr. Stark had a point. He couldn't hang around other people that close to his mentor, intern or not. Those people weren't stupid and if the Black Widow was on that plane as well, she was bound to figure things out if Peter just showed up on that transport.

Mr. Stark stepped back up to Peter, put his hand back on his shoulder. "I need to look at that suit of yours, Pete. Come by the lab before you go back out there."

Peter's eyebrows rose up along with his head and he looked straight at him. "I can go back on patrol?"

"Yes." Mr. Stark nodded to himself. "You should. We need to earn people's trust back and they do trust you, Pete."

He blinked at the man and his mouth dropped open. "You... you think the people trust _me_?"

"Of course they do, kid." The expression on the man's face softened. "You made more of a personal impression on any of them than we could ever hope to." The corners of his mouth almost pulled into a smirk. "I guess it helps that your safes rarely come with the million-dollar damages our fights usually leave behind." His eyes shifted back out to the airport, smoke still blooming from the recently extinguished fires. "We need to check the suit first, though. I want to make sure. We need to run every test I can think of, check if it suffered any damage. In a few days. In a few days I think, alright?"

Peter took a couple of deep breaths to quell his excitement at the prospect of getting some of his routine back. This wasn't the time for it. "I'm sorry about Colonel Rhodes, Mr. Stark." Peter frowned, eyes on his mentor. "I'm sure he'll be okay."

The man's eyes were still on the ruined airport on the other side of the street. He gave a curt nod, then turned and went for the door. "I'll see you in a few days."

He had left Peter in that hotel room to wait for the car and just like on his trip to Germany, Peter had been alone on the return flight. He understood why of course. With Colonel Rhodes injuries. That was more important now. A wave of nausea hit him at the thought of what that fight in Leipzig had cost and he tightened the hold on his backpack. He hadn't talked to Mr. Stark since that day. Not really. Peter had sent a few short messages after he had gotten off the plane. Then another asking when to come by for the check-up and had just received a short "The usual time." But that had been a couple of days ago, that Wednesday night.

He set out to the Tower on the Friday right after school. It had only been a few days since the events in Germany. To think that just that Monday he had been on a different country was enough to blow his mind but the thought of what had transpired there still set his nerves on edge, made his skin prickle. There was excitement bubbling deep inside him, a longing to get back to his routine, sure. There was also that sense of dread that had stuck with him ever since he left the Leipzig airport. A deep throbbing sense of unease that just wouldn't go away.

It usually wasn't a particularly long trip from Queens to the Tower, but that day the train just kept stopping between stations, mumbled explanations by the conductor were lost to Peter as he was still deep in thought. He didn't mind the delay all that much. Not like he usually would. Was simultaneously wishing for time to go by faster to get on with it as well as hoping time would just slow down, give him a few more minutes to prepare. Getting to the Tower seemed to be tied in with all the dread that was clinging to him.

There was an unusual amount of commotion in the lobby. Granted, it was a Friday and Fridays were always busy as the week came to an end, but there were even reporters hanging around the main entrance. He made a beeline for security and kept his head low until the elevator doors closed behind him.

"Hi FRIDAY, can you get me up to the lab."

**_"Yes, Peter."_**

The elevator shot up through the building climbing level after level.

"You let him know I'm here, right?" He checked his watch, but it wasn't all that bad. Maybe 15 minutes later than he usually got there. "There was an issue with the subway, something on the tracks. I could have gotten out but I didn't think he'd want that."

**_"Mr. Stark is currently not at the Tower."_**

Peter's eyes moved up to the ceiling. "He's not?" Shit, had he gotten his dates mixed up? "But he's back, right? He came back with Colonel Rhodes?"

_**"Mr. Stark is working on a project at the Compound."**_

"Shit." The lab opened up in front of him and Peter rubbed a hand across his face. "Shit, take me back down, FRIDAY."

Of course. Of course Mr. Stark was at the Compound! He was an idiot. That's where Colonel Rhodes was most likely being treated by the Avengers' medical team. That's where Mr. Stark would be. Damn, of course Mr. Stark would have meant for him to come to the Compound.

"FRIDAY, I need to get out there. What's the fastest way?"

**_"There is a car on standby."_**

Peter bit his lip. He always felt awkward taking advantage of Mr. Stark's drivers. He didn't want the man to think that he was taking these kinds of things for granted.

"Can... can you just ask him, if it's okay that I use one of the cars to get to the Compound?"

_**"Mr. Stark is currently unavailable."**_

"Damn, alright. How about... how long does the train take? Or the bus? There should be something I could take out there from Grand Central, right?"

_**"There is a connection to Esopus that leaves in 17 minutes. The train stops in Poughkeepsie where you need to get off and take the bus 709 to Esopus. From the bus stop, you will need to walk another 1.8 miles to the Compound." **_

Peter groaned. He wanted to get his suit back, wanted to get back out there. The odd safe here and there and he would make sure they would trust him to help them. Mr. Stark was freaked out as it was though so the check-up had to happen first. Peter would just have to make sure he got there as quickly as possible. He didn't want to keep Mr. Stark waiting either. He'd probably be less annoyed if Peter would just use the car than if he didn't turn up for another two and a half hours.

"Mr. Stark wouldn't mind me using the car, right? I mean, he said that's why he hired the drivers. FRIDAY?"

_**"The car is always on standby and you are welcome to use it, Peter."**_

"Right. Alright then. Just... just tell him sorry. And that I'm on my way."

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In contrast to the Tower, the Compound was quieter than he had seen it in a long time. The last time Peter had seen it this empty was probably the first time he had been there. That weekend when Mr. Stark had shown up on his doorstep and had then taken him out to the Compound.

Peter made it into the building without meeting a single person. He had expected a little more commotion, even with some of the Avengers gone. Well, with most of them gone. Yes, they had put some of them in custody but Rogers and Barnes had escaped and Mr. Stark was sure to have his hands full with that, people nagging him about his progress. Peter had expected a lot of busy Compound employees running around with clear instructions on what to do. But no. There was hardly anyone around.

He made his way straight to the lab. The door to the lab opened for him right away. Peter quickly stepped into the room and the doors shut right behind him. The lab was quiet. No buzzing of the bots. No clinking of metal on metal, the familiar noises that would echo through the lab when Mr. Stark was working. The man was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was upstairs in the office? That wasn't a good sign. If Mr. Stark was quiet that usually meant that he was brooding about something and that was hardly ever a good thing. It might also mean that he was annoyed or mad. With Peter going to the Tower first and the delays on the way, he was over an hour late. Even if something else had put his mentor in a bad mood, Peter being late wouldn't help.

He dropped his backpack next to the sofa that stood in the middle of the lab and dragged his feet as he walked up to the staircase in the back that led up to Mr. Stark's office.

"Mr. Stark?" he called up the stairs but the office was dark. The windows up there must have been blacked out.

"FRIDAY, where is he?"

**_"Mr. Stark is working on a project at the Compound."_**

Peter gave his head a subtle shake. "Well, he's not in the lab," he said to himself, then cast his eyes back to the ceiling. "FRIDAY, maybe a little more detail? What's he doing?"

**_"Mr. Stark is currently unavailable."_**

"Unavailable?" Peter frowned. "What does that mean? Where is he?"

**_"Mr. Stark is working on a project at the Compound. He is currently unavailable."_**

Peter shot a glare up to the ceiling. That was a bit of an exaggerated reaction to Peter being late. Mr. Stark wasn't usually petty like that.

"He doesn't even know I'm here, does he FRIDAY? Did he forget that I was coming by?"

**_"Mr. Stark did not forget about your appointment. Unfortunately, he is currently unavailable."_**

"What? Where is he then? Is he gonna meet me here?"

**_"Mr. Stark is working on a project at the Compound. He is currently unavailable."_**

"Yeah, you said that. What's with..." he shot another glance up to the ceiling. It wasn't like FRIDAY to be that repetitive. It wasn't like her not to tell him where Mr. Stark was either, even if he was busy. He was busy often enough even on the days that Peter would drop by the lab. "What's going on?"

**_"I am not at liberty to share this information with you at this point." _**

He shook his head in confusion. "Who are you at liberty to share this information with?"

**_"I am not at liberty to share this information with you at this point."_**

He stood in the middle of the lab and just stared into the open space. This wasn't just odd. This was creepy. Something was wrong, he could feel it. It was almost like someone had set up a —

"FRIDAY, where is Mr. Stark?"

**_"Mr. Stark is working on a project at the Compound."_**

"Why do you keep repeating the same sentences over and over again?"

**_"I am not at liberty to share this information with you at this point."_**

"Fuck." He rubbed both hands across his face. Mr. Stark didn't want to be found. That much was clear. Only question was... why?

His hands fell off his face as realization hit.

_Oh_.

Of course Mr. Stark would probably be in the medical wing, would be with Colonel Rhodes. Just the thought of the pain in his mentor's face as he spoke of his friend getting injured in the fight, the concern over if he'd be okay. And he would have put in a filter to keep FRIDAY from spilling that information.

_Mr. Stark did not forget about your appointment. _ _Unfortunately, he is currently unavailable._

He had heard that line before. Mr. Stark had literally made him use that line on some of the younger overeager engineers from the 36th floor who had shown up on the lab's door one day to ask for some of his time. It was FRIDAY's standard response to inquiries when the man was busy with something else. Peter sighed. He was fairly sure that Mr. Stark had absolutely forgotten that Peter was going to come to the lab today. That didn't bode too well for whatever state Colonel Rhodes was in. It also explained the empty Compound as well as the busy Tower. Mr. Stark would have shut the Compound off to the outside world, had shut himself off using FRIDAY as a shield so all the questions people had on the current situation of the Avengers, about Mr. Stark's responses to what had transpired went straight to the Tower.

The man was beating himself up for what had happened in Leipzig, was taking the blame like he seemed to do so often. With the team almost entirely gone, Colonel Rhodes injured, probably severely, Mr. Stark was alone in this. Like he had been after the incident in Lagos, after the one in Manhattan. Peter let himself fall onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. It wasn't right. Mr. Stark shouldn't have to deal with all this on his own. He needed people to help him deal with all this, he had said so himself. That day he had come to Peter's apartment, had lectured him in his own room about how nobody could do this hero business alone. How he would have been dead three times over if he would have had to deal with everything on his own.

Well, he wasn't. Peter sat up. His fists clenched around the edge of the couch, fingers turning white from the stain. As long as he was around Mr. Stark wouldn't be alone in this. He wasn't going to let— A thought hit him. There might be a way to get around that filter the man had put on FRIDAY. An idea that was worth a shot.

"Hey, FRIDAY? Is Mr. Stark in the medical wing?"

**_"Mr. Stark is working on a project at the Compound."_**

Peter sighed. "Alright then, can you show me what way the medical wing is?"

**_"The Compound's medical wing is on the east side of the building. Please follow the indicated lights."_**

Well, at least the questions not directly concerning Mr. Stark still got a regular response from her. Peter carefully checked the hallway. There was nobody around though. The Compound was indeed unusually empty. His steps echoed off the concrete walls and maybe it was just his nerves, but they seemed to ring louder than usual. It wasn't that Peter wasn't allowed to walk around the Compound. He'd been here a bunch of times with Mr. Stark before but things seemed different that day. The atmosphere just a little eerie.

FRIDAY lead him all the way to the east side of the building. He hadn't been to the medical wing before, had always made a point to stay away from the places where he could run into other people at the Compound. People that weren't Mr. Stark. The less people knew about him the less inquiring questions he would potentially expose himself to.

It only took him a few minutes to find the tract. FRIDAY's method of guiding him by the floor lights was reliable and quick until he hit a dead end. The doors that lead to the medical wing were closed. They didn't differ from any of the other automated doors around the Compound. Unlike those other doors in the building, they didn't open for him though which resulted in Peter almost walking into them headfirst.

There was a handprint and retina scanner on the wall as well as an access card reader, the same kind of authorization check that the elevator in the Tower had. His access card was in the back pocket of his jeans. That one wouldn't help him here though. Mr. Stark had given him access to the labs and any checkpoint that would lie on the way, but this. No. There was no way it would work here. He could try of course. Worst case scenario, he'd trigger some kind of alarm. That sure would get him Mr. Stark's attention, but also everyone else's.

"FRIDAY, do I have clearance to get to the medical wing?"

_**"Access to the Medial Wing is limited to essential personal only."**_

"I guess that's a no," he mumbled. The doors' privacy function was enabled and there was no way to know what was happening beyond them. He eyed the other doors that he had walked past on his way. He could probably try one of those rooms and then probably find an open window somewhere on the medical wing. There wouldn't be any access scanners on those, but the result would be the same. FRIDAY would know that he shouldn't be in there.

He sighed and looked up at one of her cameras. "Can you let me in, FRIDAY? Please?"

**_"Peter, you have no access to this area of the Compound."_**

He bit the insides of his cheeks. His only choice was to convince her and that wouldn't be easy but he had a solid plan.

His eyes were still on her camera mounted in the middle of the corridor above the doors. "Come on, FRIDAY. I'm just gonna check on him quickly."

**_"You have no access to this area of the Compound."_**

Alright then, he had this one ace up his sleeve and he'd just have to play it and hope for the best.

"Mr. Stark said that I'm always safe with him." He gave in to the urge to clasp his own hands and pick on his fingers, a nervous tick of his' she'd pick out right away. Something that she might interpret as anxiety that would get him his way. "You heard him. He did say that. I want to see him." He took a couple of shallow breaths, mimicking some of the symptoms he'd show when his senses would play up. "Please, FRIDAY. Please. I need to see him."

The doors stayed closed but FRIDAY's routine answer didn't ring out either.

"Please. You heard him say it. I know you did. He said he'd always make sure I was okay." He bit his lip, eyes still on her camera. "Please, FRI."

For a moment it was quiet and then without another word from FRIDAY the doors in front of him slid open. Peter let out a deep breath, careful to keep the victory grin off his face. Beyond lay a long corridor only illuminated by the dimmed spots near the floor. Just enough light to navigate comfortably but low enough to give the area a somber, deserted vibe. He stepped inside before FRIDAY would have second thoughts about bending the rules for him. Peter put one foot in front of the other and wandered down the corridor. He only came to a halt at the very end of it, where it forked off in two different directions. Just as the realization sunk in that he would never find Mr. Stark in this maze the floor lights to his right lit up a little brighter. FRIDAY. He cast his eyes up to her, a soft smile of thanks on his lips.

She led him through the very heart of the medical wing, around a few corners until he found himself at a dead-end, a wide and heavy door in front of him. He hadn't really thought what he would do once he got there. Mr. Stark would not be easily persuaded to accept Peter's help. Peter had joked about it being their thing, helping each other out, but in reality there was a very clear power dynamic between them. The one where Mr. Stark held all the power and he had almost none. Peter shrugged off the thought. That didn't matter now. Mr. Stark needed help, someone that would have his back and Peter was here for all of it. After everything his mentor had helped him with, had done for him. The suit. The sense of security. Literally stitching him back together.

It was the least he could do.

Suddenly a shiver pulled him from his thoughts. It went through him and out of pure instinct he took a couple of steps back, turned and retreated further until he found his back pressed against the wall behind him. His eyes shot back and forth between the door on his right-hand side and the corridor that had led him there on the other. He might have been able to convince FRIDAY, somewhat trick her into helping him. It was rather unlikely that the Compound's medical staff would come to a similar conclusion. They didn't know him. He had no clearance to be there. They'd just kick him right out.

There was no decision-making process on his part, his body simply acted out of instinct. He jumped for the door and quickly pressed down the handle. His best shot was that Mr. Stark would just go with it and not have his employees kick him out. Peter stepped into the room and the door fell shut behind him. It took mere seconds for him to realized that Mr. Stark wasn't there. The room was empty except for Colonel Rhodes in his hospital bed, a gazillion number of tubes and machine tied to him. Peter was frozen to the spot, eyes on the door. They would turn the corner to the corridor and come in any second. He had to do something. He couldn't... he couldn't be found in the Colonel's hospital room on his own.

"Damn it FRIDAY," he hissed "Is this you trying to get me busted?"

There was nowhere for him to go. Nowhere to run. The door flew opened and Peter closed his eyes, braced himself. He'd be in so much trouble for this.

There was silence at first, then a few hurried steps. Some rustling. Heavy breathing and... and strangled sobs.

Peter frowned then opened his eyes and found his face was only a couple of inches from a plain white wall. He blinked a couple of times. What the...? Slowly, carefully, he craned his neck and the world was turned on its head. Oh. That was the ceiling he had been looking at. He didn't remember jumping, but his senses must have kicked in. That did explain the lack of reaction in the room to his presence.

There was not enough time for him to collect himself, to look around and take in what was happening around him, for just a few moments later the door flew open once again. He kept as still as he could. The dimmed lights in the room were working in his favor and since the two people who had walked into the room both had their backs turned to him, he found the nerve to carefully crawl even further along the ceiling to the back of the room. There were a couple of wardrobes in the corner that left just enough of a gap to the ceiling for him to hide in the space between them.

He bit his lip so he wouldn't curse out loud. If there was anything worse than being found in this room in the first place it would be being found while he was crawling along the ceiling. Without the mask. Just him. He couldn't freak out about that. He couldn't. Deep breaths. He might be alright up there. People never looked up to the ceiling. He had found that to be true on multiple occasions. That was a comforting thought. Enough so that it cleared the panic in his bones just enough that he could make use of his brain again, assess the mess he had gotten himself into.

Two women. It was two women that had entered the room. That much he could tell. One with shorter dark hair, clad in black leather clothes. The one who had been second to come into the room. He couldn't really make out much about the other one as she was crouched over the hospital bed.

"How is he?" The dark-haired woman asked.

The other one cleared her throat. "The surgery went as well as we could have hoped. We'll... " Her voice was heavy with emotion. "We'll know more if he wakes up."

"He will." Her tone just encouraging enough so she sounded sincere. "Pepper, he's been through worse than this."

The breath in his throat caught and he instinctively shrunk further back into the gap between ceiling and wardrobe. That... that was Pepper Potts.

"We don't know that. We don't know anything." Her voice was rough, hardening with every word. "Why was he alone out there? Why?!"

Peter frowned. Alone? Miss Potts slowly detangled herself from the bed and rose to her feet, one hand wiping the tears off her face. That didn't make any sense. Colonel Rhodes hadn't been alone, he—

His mind went blank. As Miss Potts moved away, the vantage point high up on the wardrobe gave Peter a better look at the motionless figure in the hospital bed. That wasn't Colonel Rhodes. Where the hell had FRIDAY—

It hit him all at once. As he recognized the hair, the face despite the tubes. It was him. Mr. Stark was lying in that bed, face cut up and bruised, neck wrapped in heavy bandages, white sheets covering the rest of his body except for his arms. Not even a single tone left Peter's throat, the shock so deep every cell in his body was paralyzed. What? How?

"I don't know, Pepper." The other woman bowed her head low for a deep breath then looked back at her. "We found Steve's shield with Tony."

Peter's heart gave another jump. Rogers? Miss Potts' eyes widened. "Steve Rogers was there? But... but how? Did they just run into each other? In the middle of nowhere in Siberia?"

The other woman exhaled deeply. "I don't know. There's no way to tell what happened. Steve wouldn't just leave the shield behind. Maybe if we accessed the suit's data, but FRIDAY wouldn't even let us get into the lab to keep the suit out of anyone else's view. I guess... I guess we could have one of Compound's head engineers try to access it, or bring it to the Tower. Someone Tony would trust."

Miss Potts reached for the man's hand, carefully entangled her fingers into his. "There is nobody Tony would trust enough to access that data. It'll be encrypted with multiple levels of security codes."

"Maybe if you asked FRIDAY? He'd trust you. She might access it for you."

She shook her head, her hand tightening on his. "Not with this. Not with his suits."

"He trusted you enough to send out the beacon to you."

"Those are old protocols. They were probably in place from before, because... probably because there was no other name he could replace mine with. Not with Rhodey..." She cleared her throat. "Not with Rhodey unavailable."

"It's worth a shot, isn't it?"

Miss Potts turned his eyes down at her hand that still held Mr. Stark's. "I'll have FRIDAY open the door to the lab at least." She took a couple of deep breaths before she looked back up at the other woman in front of her. "The suit should stay in there. In the lab. I'll ask FRIDAY to read out the data. It's not going to work though. Just... just meet me there. Give me... give me maybe an hour?"

Miss Potts turned back towards the bed. One of her arms snaked around her torso, the other hand still held onto Mr. Stark's. Behind her back, the other woman shuffled back and forth on her feet.

"We don't really have an hour."

"Why not?"

"It's Ross, Pepper. He's been trying to get in contact with Tony."

Miss Potts head shot around, eyes wide. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"I didn't. I told you I wouldn't. But I can't stall him forever. He wants Steve and Barnes. He wants Tony to get them for him."

Miss Potts's eyes went back to Mr. Stark's face. "Ross can't know, Maria. He can't know. Tony signed the Accords. If they find out that he was in a fight without any mandate from the council, they'll put sanctions on him. They might even try to take the suits or... or..."

"Or put him in that bunker. Next to the other Avengers."

Miss Potts' eyes found the other woman's again, her features closed off. "He'd never approve of what Ross did to them. You know that."

The woman, Maria, shook her head and looked away from her. "That doesn't matter now. Ross is a problem we can't put off. We need to deal with him before he starts digging. You need to contact him, make up a story about SI or something."

"Fine." She turned her back to Maria, stepped closer to the hospital bed. "Alright, let's go then."

Miss Potts bent down and pressed her lips against the man's forehead, on the left side where his face showed the least amount of bruising. Peter was quick to look away. Heat shot up in his face. This was too private. Too personal. He should have never even witnessed that. He saw their movement out of the corner of his eye. When he looked back up the door fell shut behind them.

Peter was still huddled on that wardrobe. His heart was racing as he listened to their footsteps, how they quickly walk away from the room down the hallway. His glance turned back to the man in the hospital bed on the other side of the room. Peter's mind was still blank, overwhelmed with shock and the onslaught of information that only brought up even more questions. His hands shook as he slowly descended from his hiding spot. How... how could this have happened? Rogers had gotten away. Mr. Stark was back in the US, he was on that transport with Colonel Rhodes, he had to have been. Why the hell would he go to Siberia?

Slow, small steps brought him closer and closer to the bed. Nausea rose in his throat. His mentor looked weak and beaten, his skin white as a ghost's, half his face covered by the breathing tube they had stuck down his throat.

"What... what happened? Sir, I..." his chest burned, as did the tears in his eyes. "I don't understand. You were fine. You were fine!" His left hand shot up and covered his mouth just in time. Just before a deep sob could work its way out of his throat. Why hadn't he called on him? Why hadn't he let him help? Tears fell from his eyes onto his hand. He took another step forward, stood right next to the man now. Carefully his right hand reached for the man's arm. His skin was warm, much warmer than he had expected. Almost feverish. Peter's fingers curled around the man's wrist, fingertips feeling for his pulse.

It was still there. Shallow, but steady. That rhythm that had calmed him, anchored him only a few days ago, not at all as thundering and booming as it had been before. When Mr. Stark had calmed him, given him shelter at the Tower without so much as a second thought. Peter's heart ached. He ached all over really, every cell of his body. How could this have happened? Why would Mr. Stark have gone out there on his own? At least the Black Widow should have been with him!

He inhaled deeply, rubbed a hand across his face, the other one still clasping his mentor's wrist. "You're the one who... who told me that nobody could do this whole... whole superhero business on their own," Peter whispered. "I would have come with you, Sir. You... you didn't have to do this alone."

Peter closed his eyes and slowly sank to the floor. His head came to rest against the mattress, fingertips still pressed on Mr. Stark's pulse point.

* * *

###

* * *

_[author's note:_

_Happy 2020, guys!_

_Thanks again for reading, the lovely comments, and the likes. I really appreciate it.]_


	31. The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The - 31

**Chapter 31 - The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree**

Peter's life had gone to shit. It really had, not slowly but swiftly and thoroughly. In just a couple of weeks, he had gone from supported friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and happy Stark Industries intern to swiping toiletries, canned food, and cereal over the scanner of a cashier point while he worried about his comatose superhero mentor whose life was hanging in the balance. This was a nightmare. And it was only his first day of his new summer job. With everything that had happened the week before, with what had happened to Mr. Stark, he had almost forgotten about the upcoming change in his routine.

This had been a horrible idea. It might be giving him some breathing room with Aunt May complaining about the internship, but he wasn't all that sure anymore, that this would be worth it. All the beeping, all the people talking around him, the weird smells that came from the fast-food counter close to the exit. He had picked Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays to work just to be sure that it wouldn't clash with his internship days. So, of course his first day had fallen on the first day of his summer recess. All that planning around his timetable with Mr. Stark now seemed a little redundant. His mentor was still unresponsive the last time he had been at the Compound, which had been the previous night. They hadn't even taken him off the breathing machine. Peter's heart gave a tight squeeze as the images of his mentor lying motionless in that room all alone flickered in front of his eyes. All wasn't well. It really, really wasn't.

"Hey, those aren't mine!"

Peter shook himself out of his thoughts. "Sorry!" He stared at the monitor. There were a couple of cans with sliced pineapple on the older ladies tally now, that belonged to the next person in line. Heat shot in his face and his hands started to sweat.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

"Erm... I'm so sorry, Ma'am, I don't really know..." He turned around, looking for someone he could wave to for help, but nobody was paying any attention to him. His supervisor, who had shown him what to do, had her back turned to him and Peter was completely blanking on her name. You'd think those checkout registers should be super intuitive, but Peter would probably have an easier time programming one of these things than remembering which colored button did what. Nope, he wasn't going to wing this.

It took him forever and just before he was about to leave his booth and actually walk down to talk to her, his supervisor did notice him at last. People were already switching to other checkout counters and both ladies, that were waiting for his mistake to be corrected, were getting rather impatient.

"Just concentrate a little better, Peter." Zoey, that's what it was, Zoey told him. "You have to be a lot faster than this."

6 hours. It wasn't even the maximum a minor was allowed to work on a non-school day by law, but it was long enough. It was still a short day compared to the time he would usually spend working at his internship, but time just didn't want to pass at all while he was sitting behind that counter. So different to his time at the lab, which had always been everything but tedious. Not recently of course. Those past few days had been hard. He had gone back to the Compound every single day. To see Mr. Stark, obviously. Peter stayed with him as much as he could, not just to be there if he— when, _when_ he would wake up. There was another issue he had been dealing with: his suit. He was still without an acceptable way to access the technology that was supposed to help him keep people safe. Sure, the suit itself would probably work even if Mr. Stark had been worried. That had just been him freaking out about the incident in Leipzig. And who could blame him? But there had been a different problem that had emerged that last Friday night.

He had sat by Mr. Stark's bed for what had felt like hours, just staring at the ceiling, the walls or the man himself. His mentor's skin was incredibly pale. The only color came from the dark red wounds on his forehead, on the bridge of his nose and an array of smaller cuts on his cheekbones just above the mounting of the breathing tube. They blended in with the dark purple color of a bruise just below the man's left eye. There was nothing Peter could do to help. He'd been trying to at least say something, talk to him in an effort to, well, to what? He probably didn't even hear him. Still, there was a desperate urge in Peter's heart to have him know that he wasn't alone.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a shallow tingling of his senses. By sheer instinct, his back straightened and he shot a glance over his shoulder. That was right, there were still people out there. He still had no official authorization to be in that room, unless you'd count FRIDAY's trust that Mr. Stark would allow it. Odds were that the Compound personal or even Miss Potts would absolutely positively not count that. A quick glance to his phone made him realize that it had been less than an hour that he had spent in the room. An hour. That's what Pepper Potts had asked for. Mild nausea rose from deep down in his guts. She might come back. She would definitely come back and when she did, he'd be discovered after all.

"Is there another way out of here, FRIDAY?"

"I'm afraid not, Peter."

He blew out a deep breath. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide in those hallways. What if he were to run into someone, anyone? Compound personal or even Miss Potts herself? Or that other lady, Maria, who didn't look like she'd ask too many questions before she'd want to put him in a holding cell somewhere until she figured out how Peter had weaseled his way into the medical wing.

He slowly got off the floor. "How about the windows, FRIDAY? Can't you just open one and let me out? I could like... crawl back into Mr. Stark's office or something."

"I'm afraid all windows at the Compound are triple enforced and bolted. Plus, the alarm on the exterior wall would give you away as you lack the superiority to have me disable them."

"Great," he muttered. "Well, the hallway it is then." His gaze was fixed on his mentor for another moment. "I'll be back, Mr. Stark."

His walk back to the lab was quiet and thankfully a lot less eventful than he had feared. The Compound seemed almost abandoned and now he knew why. They must have sent people home, made sure that as little people as possible knew what had happened. How vulnerable they were with the Avengers gone, Colonel Rhodes injured and now Mr. Stark, who's recovery seemed to be unclear.

"He's gonna be fine," Peter muttered to himself.

The door to the lab opened for him and with his first glance around the room his breath got stuck so deep in his throat, it felt like invisible hands were choking him. Just at the lefthand wall, only a few steps into the room lay the suit. Mr. Stark's Iron Man suit, or, well, what was left of it. The armor looked like an empty sardine can that had not been opened with the designed hedge but instead been peeled apart with sheer force. Like someone had taken a crowbar and peeled away layer after layer.

There was a fire, anger that started burning in his stomach as he stepped closer to the remnants of what had been meant to shield his mentor. What had failed to keep him safe for after all, underneath all that titanium he was only human. Peter's ears were ringing, the blood in his veins raging. He didn't even know if he wanted to cry at the sight or bash away at the useless heap of metal instead. Anger won out as he spotted Captain America's shield just behind the ruined suit, propped up against the wall

Rogers had really been there then. Rogers could have stopped this and he didn't. Peter built up momentum as he rushed forward and kicked the damn shield once, twice, three times, ignoring the sting in his knee as the shield held up against his ambush without as much as a wiggle. He cursed in frustration and turned away from both the shield and the ruined armor. His suit was what was important now. Maybe FRIDAY could check it and if she couldn't figure out how, well... he would just have to go for it. He couldn't sit back now. With Vision bound by the Accords, there was only Peter left. Nobody else in town could do anything about the threats looming out there. He just had to—

His blood froze in his veins. His backpack. He had dropped his backpack on the couch in the middle of the lab and now... now it was gone. A sudden rush of dizziness almost floored him. People had been in here dropping off the armor and now... and now his backpack, his suit—

"FRI—" Peter's voice was shaking, he was possibly hyperventilating. "FRIDAY, wher—where's my backpack?"

"Miss Potts took it and put it in the office upstairs."

His body reacted on instinct. In five long jumps, he was all the way across the room and took three stairs at a time ascending to the office. FRIDAY turned on the lights for him just as he made it up the stairs. He stumbled through the room, just couldn't see it. Where could it be? Where could she have put it?

His heart was pulsing like crazy. If she had opened the bag... If she had seen the suit...

A wave of dread overcame him. Something was happening. Something wasn't right.

"FRIDAY, lights off."

She did so right away and not a moment too soon. The buzzing of the lab door echoed all the way up into the office.

"It's not that we wouldn't try it if—"

"I don't understand why Helen doesn't just use the cradle? She used it on Clint and from what I heard he looked actually better than before."

Peter had sunken to the floor and slowly made his way around the desk. This was getting out of hand. He could have very well still been down there. If they had shown up a few minutes earlier— He had to stop. He was freaking himself out when he really had to keep his pulse to slow down. It was hammering away like a freight train. Mrs. Potts and the Maria lady, he could tell that much. Just the two of them. Well, _just_...

"Pepper, the cradle grafts tissue. It's nerves and synaptic connectivity that were snapped in the Colonel's back. It's the injury to his neck, the resulting low oxygen levels Tony's brain had to deal with that keeps him in the coma. We can't graft synthetic nerves. Not yet. We certainly can't graft brain cells."

Miss Potts' breathing was heavy, even without his sense he'd be able to hear her clearly despite hiding up there. "There has to be something. We need to do something."

"Helen is doing—"

She interrupted Maria again, her steps loud and fast as she paced in the lab downstairs. "—everything she can. I know that."

"We just have to wait this out."

Miss Potts' voice was strained, her breathing heavy. "I can't just do nothing. There has to be something we can do."

"You can help me deflect. Help me find out what happened. Steve might still be out there somewhere. So is the Winter Soldier."

"And how could I do that?"

"I will go and debrief Sharon Carter tomorrow."

"Sharon Carter?" Miss Potts' tone changed to a higher, almost surprised expression.

"You know her?"

"I know of her. Peggy Carter was the only family Tony had left."

"Well, Sharon is under arrest. They are flying her into New York to stand trial."

"What?" She stopped pacing after all. There was very little movement in the lab at all. "Why?"

"She is the one that took the shield and wings. Presumably, she handed them over to Steve."

"My god, what is it with these people?" Peter crouched a little further into himself behind that desk at the harsh words echoed all the way up to him. "What do they think this is going to do? That the Accords will change if they box their way through a bunch of military and police department?"

Maria sighed. "It doesn't matter, does it? We know the shield ended up with Tony in Siberia. She might have known where Steve was heading."

They both stayed quiet for a moment. A torturous long moment. The longer Peter waited for them to continue or leave the louder his own breathing sounded to him. He could not be busted in Mr. Stark's office.

"What do you want me to do then?" Miss Potts asked.

"We need to know more about what happened in Germany. I know, the Colonel is still in bad shape, but this might be time-critical."

"Fine. I can... I can try to talk to him. I just... he doesn't know yet. About Tony. But I guess... I guess he'll notice and ask for him soon enough. What else? Can't FRIDAY find them? Can't we track them somehow?"

"I already looked into that. I looked into Sam's Wings and Natasha's Bites, but they seemed to have turned the trackers on the equipment off. I couldn't access any of the earlier recorded data either. That was all corrupted. I assume Natasha found a way into the system."

Peter's heart had jumped in his chest. Mr. Stark put trackers on the equipment he designed. Of course, he would. He rubbed circles into both his temples. Of course, he fucking would. If the Maria lady could access those, she would likely be able every piece of equipment. Including his suit. Peter swallowed hard. The Widow had messed with them? That was... odd. In the end, it didn't matter though. If Colonel Rhodes would tell them that Peter had been in Germany, they might start looking for him as well.

Of course Mr. Stark would put a tracker on him. Peter hadn't even thought about that but it made perfect sense.

He couldn't use the suit like that, not while other people had access to a tracking system that could expose him. That meant... he blew out a deep breath, trying to get his frustration in check. That meant, no Spider-Man-ing. His web-shooters were integrated into the suit now. He'd... he'd have to destroy the suit to get to them. Mr. Stark would kill him. Unless—

Miss Potts' voice rang through the rooms once more. "That's it? Rhodey and the data?"

"Anything you can do to keep Ross out of our hair..."

"I think we should be good for now. He can only demand Tony's presence for a code B2 or higher. I did stress that on the phone. If something big were to go down. Well, I could look into flying out a suit remote, but that will take a bit of time to organize."

"Thank you, Pepper. I'll leave you to it then."

The door to the lab buzzed open and Maria's footsteps slowly faded out. One set of footsteps. That meant... that meant, Miss Potts had not left the lab. There was a low shuffle, rusty squeaks that followed. Mr. Stark's battered sofa. She had sat down. Then there was more silence. Peter had to strain his ears to hear it over the loud throbbing of his own pulse, desperate to know what was happening down below, but once he had picked up the sound, he couldn't unhear it. Couldn't ignore it even though he wanted to. Heavy breathing, a series of short and shallow sniffs. She was crying. Peter's own eyes stung at the realization. She was alone with this, scared for Mr. Stark, just like him.

He had to pull himself together. There was a strong impulse in his soul that urged him to go down there. To keep neither of them alone in this. That was a pipedream though. He didn't even know her. There was no telling what she would do. If she would even believe him or give him the benefit of the doubt, time for him to explain. And what was he going to explain? That he was Mr. Stark's intern? That he was Spider-Man? Or both? How Mr. Stark had flown a 14-year-old with superpowers to Germany? No normal adult wouldn't be impressed by that story. None of them could ever understand.

So instead he stayed put. His tears were his own and nobody had to know about them as he was hunched behind Mr. Stark's desk in the dark. There was time for him to pull himself together while he waited. And he had to wait for quite a while. With no way out of there except through the lab he was trapped once again until finally, Miss Potts asked FRIDAY for an update on Mr. Stark.

**_"Heart rate at 45 BPM, blood pressure and breathing are stable. No change in his general condition."_**

"Alright." She sighed and cleared her throat. "Alright. Order me some dinner, will you? Pasta, FRIDAY. You know, from the place. Have it send to Tony's quarter."

**_"Of course, Ma'am."_**

Peter sat in his hiding place for a few more minutes after the doors had buzzed open and close before he got up and stretched his aching legs.

"FRIDAY, a heads-up would have been great."

**_"My apologies, Peter. There is no protocol for me to warn you from other people's movements within the Compound."_**

"Come on, FRIDAY. If someone were to find me, it's not just me who would get into trouble. Mr. Stark would get into trouble, too. So, if you help me, you're really helping Mr. Stark."

_**"Agreed."**_

He looked up at the dark ceiling in the general direction of where on the cameras was. Well, that would be helpful.

"Thanks, FRIDAY."

**_"Of course, Peter. Mr. Stark would want you to be safe."_**

He shot another glance up at her cameras, not really sure if she was making fun of him or if she was sincere. In the end, what did it matter? At least this way he could move a little more comfortable around the Compound.

"Hey FRIDAY, where exactly has Miss Potts put my backpack?"

**_"On the back wall, the second wardrobe from the left."_**

FRIDAY put the light on a low setting for him. He could make out the general layout of the room, but a little light would go a long way for him. There it was. His heart rate had picked up again as he pulled open the zipper on his backpack and a giant wave of relief washed over him. There is was, right where he had left it. That had been a close call. A couple of deep breaths and he felt better right away, anchored with that crucial part of himself back in his hands. He had stuff to do. They could not find out about him. They couldn't find him! That suit had been in his house for quite some time. If they found the data, they would find him.

Peter carefully tiptoed down the steps back into the lab. He leaned down and checked but Miss Potts really had gone and there was nobody else lingering there either. It took only a few quick strides for him to get across the room to Mr. Stark's main workbench. He would need a bit of stuff, a couple of cables. He had a soldering bolt at home that should do if he would really need one. A couple of the mini screwdrivers would come in handy too. They were a lot more delicate than anything he had lying around. Quickly he stuffed everything in his backpack then stopped for a moment and looked down at his loot. This was madness. The suit would be encrypted somehow. There was no way that he could just go ahead and get to all that data.

"FRIDAY, erase all the data that my suit recorded over the last couple of months."

_**"You have no authorization to access that data."**_

Peter bit his lip. "If people find out about Mr. Stark's—"

**_"You have no access to that data. Only Mr. Stark can access those protocols."_**

His eyebrows shot up. "Only Mr. Stark? Nobody else?" That might mean he wouldn't even have to hack the suit.

**_"Only Mr. Stark has access to the data unless the emergency protocol is activated."_**

"What's the emergency protocol?"

**_"You have no—"_**

"Alright, alright."

He waved her off. Fine. He didn't think that would work but he had to at least try. There was a good chance that Mr. Stark had implemented a safety protocol that would alert someone if something happened. He had to be sure, to be safe that nobody could track him. It was past 7 pm already and if he wanted to make his curfew he'd have to leave rather sooner than later.

"I'll meet the car at the western exit, FRIDAY." He pulled the zipper shut and strapped the backpack securely in place. "Tell Mr. Stark..." There was a lump in his throat and no amount of swallowing could make it go away. "When nobody else is in the room, tell Mr. Stark, I'll come back. I'll come back every day till he wakes up, okay?"

**_"I'll tell him, Peter."_**

And he had been. Every day since, he had gone to the Tower and had one of Mr. Stark's cars drive him all the way out to the Compound. Even after he finished his first day at the new job despite the fatigue that stuck him to the bones, he went to spend some time sitting next to that bed. Nothing had changed since that first day. The room looked the same. Mr. Stark looked the same. Some of the bruises on his face might have faded a bit, but only slightly. May was at work. During the summer break, the hotel she was working at was always busy with tourists. With the 4th of July just around the corner they had at least two people on staff 24/7 which was stressful for his aunt for sure but it also gave him some breathing room in explaining where he was at any given time. It also gave him some space to work on the suit. Not that he was getting anywhere.

Peter sat on the floor next to Mr. Stark's bed. Legs spread out in front of him, the back of his head was resting on the mattress, eyes on the ceiling above.

"I get that you wanted to keep the coding safe but did you have to make it so complicated, Sir? I've tried everything. Well, everything that I could think of so far. And everything that google could think of so far as well."

He sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere. Every time he thought he might have found a back door. Bam. Access denied. Every trick in the book, every tactical decoding attempt failed. It was like Mr. Stark's tech was operating in a different universe than anyone else's. He arched his back and then swung around. His legs folded underneath him just as his arms did and he rested them on the bed, his cheek cushioned on top of them. The man still looked as pale as ever, breathing tube still fasted on his face. Even the flowers and fruit basket that surely Miss Potts had left on his bedside table didn't add much life to the room.

"It's almost like instead of speaking English you just made up your own language. As if you just came up with something that nobody—"

His jaw fell open, eyes fixed on the apple that was balanced on top of that ridiculous fruit basket. Newton.

"Fuck," Peter whispered. He sat up straight. His eyes shot over to his mentor's face. "You're... you're like Newton. Diagonally. Linear. Chaos structure. Implemented in combination with each other. Holy Shit." He grasped the man's hand and squeezed it tight. "I... shit. I gotta go, Sir."

FRIDAY had the driver wait for him at the western gate of the Compound. His hands were shaking and he could hardly keep himself in his seat. This had to be it. It just had to be.

The drive back to town felt like it took an eternity. Back in his room, he pulled out the suit and his laptop from the hiding paces spread out across his room. Shaky fingers connected the cables and fitted every output carefully before he connected them to the mainframe. A deep breath. He had no idea if this would work. Every time he had sat down to try something new to crack the encryption, his pulse would spike. Mr. Stark might have added any number of alert systems and self-destruct buttons and he was bound to press one by accident at some point. It didn't matter though. He had to disable that tacker.

Diagonally. Linear. Chaos structure. How had he not remembered that crazy day in the lab?

His fingers brushed over the keyboard, entering one line of code after the other. This was it. Peter held his breath and pressed enter. Right away the room was flooded with light. Peter shrunk away, his first thought that he really did trigger some kind of alarm system. On second glance though it was the intertwined webbing all over the suit that had lit up. His laptop screen lit up in a similar blue light and an extensive file system had popped up.

"Holy shit," he muttered. "What the hell am I looking at?"

There were all kinds of folders, many many file names he didn't recognize at all.

"Holy shit," he muttered again.

_Aerial Escort _

_AES03_

_Beta Testing Deadends_

_Iron Man_

_Iron League_

_..._

He had found a backdoor alright, just not to his suit. Or not only the suit. This was Mr. Stark's server. His private server.

Peter pulled his hands away from the keyboard as if it was hot lava. Shit.

The suit had been a backdoor to Mr. Stark's private server. He had just hacked Mr. Stark's private server. His heart was racing, his pulse throbbing in his ears. He jumped up to his feet, shook out his hands and took a few steps back from the laptop. Holy shit. Mr. Stark would—

Peter shook his head, forcing his breathing calm the fuck down. Mr. Stark would never find out about this. And Peter... he would just not look at any of these files, only the programming of the suit. This was going to be fine. Everything was totally under control. Two steps and he was back at his laptop. It was quite an extensive list and he had to scroll for a bit until he found what he had been looking for.

_Project Sojourner_

He ignored the shiver that ran down his spine and clicked on the folder. What did it matter? He had to turn off that tracker, get rid of the data that could expose him to people that couldn't find out about him. About how much Mr. Stark was involved in his vigilante work.

The folder contained a little more than he had anticipated. There weren't just plans of the suit, the program code and collected data on his location. There were video files. A whole battery of video files. How... how was this possible?

He scrolled through them, then clicked on the last one of the list. His face was numb, eyes wide as he was looking at the familiar view of the Leipzig airport. The suit had recorded the fight. His body was frozen in shock, but only for a moment before he shook himself out of his trance and shut the video down. He couldn't watch that. Too much had happened that day. Too much had happened since. He had to get his head back to what was important.

The tracker.

There was a subfolder that contained the script. Three scripts actually. Hm. He pulled up the first one which turned out to be the basic skeleton of coding.

"Holy shit, Mr. Stark," he couldn't help but mumble. This was ridiculously advanced. Well, duh. Mr. Stark wrote this. Peter's coding skills were alright, but it had definitely always been his weakness compared to the engineering part of robotics. Mr. Stark had let him help with that part of the suit's creation, had talked him through the structure and the materials he was using. Not the coding though. The man had been weirdly secretive about it which, well, now made a lot of sense.

Peter didn't have to understand all of this though. He just had to find that one line that controlled the tacker. There were a million different coding languages but a lot of them had similar element and once you knew your way around a couple of them, it was easier to learn the next. Sort of like with human languages. He didn't know the exact wording he was looking for, but he still went ahead and used the word search, just in case that Mr. Stark had named the algorithm after something obvious like "tracker" or "surveillance" but no luck. So instead, he scrolled through the lines, simply looking. Quite early on the "8A Training Wheels Program" caught his eye. He stared at the line, for some reason that rang a bell, but he wasn't quite sure why. It took him the better part of 30 minutes to find the line he was actually looking for.

The stress melted off him like an ice cream cone in the hot summer sun. Phew. This had happened a lot quicker than he would have thought. Well, the document wasn't all that long after all. It was pretty short actually. Less than a hundred lines. Peter frowned. That couldn't be all there was to the coding fo the suit. He saved the changes and closed the file, pulled the folder system back to the front of the desktop.

_8A Training Wheels Program_

It was the second file in that folder. That was probably where most of the actual code for the shooter and stuff was implemented. Peter bit his lip as his eyes wandered down to the third file.

_8A part II_

Huh. The curser of his mouse was hovering over the file name. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to just... just have a look. Just a learning experience that would give him a bit more insight into his suit. Peter hesitated another moment. Mr. Stark would kill him if he found out about this. He might get away explaining the tracker but this...

Did it really matter now? He just wouldn't ever tell him about this. If— When Mr. Stark would wake up, he'd just replace the line and nobody had to know.

He took a deep breath. Screw it.

* * *

##

* * *

His eyes were heavy. He'd been in and out of consciousness all day - at least he assumed that it was still the same day. He had only vaguely registered that this wasn't the first time he had woken in that bed. It wasn't his bed. That at least he could tell. Also that this wasn't the first time that he _realized_ that he wasn't in his own bed. His surroundings, yes, his surroundings were familiar. He was at the Compound. The medical wing. Why, well... that was a different question. He had never managed to stay up long enough to enquire that part. Or maybe he did and only forgot. There was something different when he woke up this time though. His brain seemed to be a little more online than before.

He closed his eyes again just for a few seconds and felt out his body. Just a quick check what hurt and what didn't, but other than a little discomfort in his chest he didn't feel much at all. His limbs felt mostly numb and with light nausea stuck in his throat, he concluded they still had him on pain meds. Heavy pain meds in all likelihood. His left arm was propped up across his lower stomach, his fingers intertwined with someone else's. _Huh._ He couldn't really move his head properly but just a small squint to his left confirmed that it was Pepper lying next to him.

Her head was cushioned by her other hand, face snuggled up against Tony's upper arm. She was lying on her side, knees pulled up to a fetal position. That light pressure on his thigh came from Pepper's shins that were pressing up against him. There was just enough light for him to make out the dark circles under her eyes as well as the tear tracks on her face. He inhaled deeply and then let is lung deflate before he reached up with his right hand to untangle her fingers from his hand and free his arm. But as he reached up, his right arm tugged on something and there was a clash next to the bed. He couldn't help but flinch and Pepper sat up straight right next to him as if shots had been fired.

He looked up at her but her eyes were searching the floor next to his bed. When she did look at him her face softened.

"Hey, you're awake."

"Yeah," he breathed out low.

She quickly got off the bed and walked around it to the other side.

"What did you do? Did you pull out your IV?"

Tony's eyes flickered down to his arm. The cannula was still taped to the back of his right hand. Pepper bent down, picked an IV bag off the floor and hung it back up next to the bed. Well, that explained that noise. Then she took his hand and checked the tube.

"Did you try to get up?"

"No, jus'..." He looked away from her. He had just wanted to put his arm around her, hold her close. But that moment was gone now.

"Tony, look at me."

She crouched down next to the bed. His eyes did find hers but his lids still felt incredibly heavy. She quickly reached for his hand with one hand and cupped his face with the other.

"Hey, you're awake." Her lips pulled into a smile.

"Been up... before," he whispered.

Her fingers softly tugged into his hair, her thumb traced up and down his cheekbone.

"Yeah, they told me." There was a quiver in her voice that he hated. The one where she tried to keep her voice from shaking but couldn't quite manage to. It was a rare sound to hear from Pepper Potts. "I always missed you. By the time I made it here you'd already gone back to sleep."

She'd been here this whole time? Huh.

"Wha' happ'nd?"

She frowned. "You don't remember?"

Her fingers still rubbed small circles onto the back of his hand. The motion was calming but also drawing his attention. What had happened? His mind was blank. In fact, the thought made the right side of his brain throb and he had to force himself not to give in to the urge to rub it.

"You went to Siberia."

He blinked at her, his mind still blank. "Siberia."

"FRIDAY send me a beacon."

A beacon. That wasn't good. That meant... that meant—

"You were stuck, on your own in a HYDRA bunker in Siberia."

HYDRA. A deep gasp left his throat and he twitched from the intensity that almost electrified his bones as the memories started to come back to him.

Siberia.

That HYDRA Bunker.

Steve Rogers.

"Tony..." Pepper held his hand in a tight grip, her voice distinctly panicked. "Tony, calm down for me. It's... It's alright. I got you."

His breathing was heavy and he struggled to open his eyes again. "You... you came an'... and go' me."

"Well, I sent Agent Hill to get you. But yeah. Of course, of course I tried to find you."

Her hand on his face was warm which should probably worry him for Pepper's hands were usually always cold. Either she had changed her circulation or he... or his skin ran even colder than her hands.

"Thank you, Pep."

She bit her lip and visibly fought to keep a smile on her lips. "You really scared me, Tony." Her fingers softly ran over his face. "You were in really bad shape."

Yeah, he would have been. Probably still was judging by the fatigue in his very bones. They had pulled quite the number on him, but it wasn't just him who had suffered at the hands of their former teammates.

"Rhodey?"

She only looked at him for a moment, studying his face. "His surgery went as well as could be expected. He's awake, recovering and annoying the nurses. Demanding updates on you every hour."

That hadn't been the information he was looking for and she knew it. "How's... 's back?"

She didn't avoid his eyes, which he appreciated, because he didn't need to be treated with kid's gloves. She only shook her head. Rhodey really was paralyzed then. Tony was the one to look away from her at that, couldn't stand the sad expression on Pepper's face. She squeezed his hand but he could find no comfort in the gesture. In the end, Rhodey's injury was on him.

He cleared his throat "I... how bad?" His voice was weak, which didn't come as a surprise, it was still a major annoyance though.

"Shhh, you just focus on getting some rest, okay?"

He should have felt a shiver run down his back but his body was simply numb. That didn't help to ease the dread in his heart. It might just be the pain meds, it might be something else. He made sure to look straight at her when he asked again. "Pep. Please."

Her hand ran softly through his hair and her head gave a subtle shake of reluctance.

"Aside from the gazillion cuts and bruises..." Her eyes were on his forehead, one finger softly tracing the side of his face. "There is a bit of frostbite in your left foot, a dislocated kneecap with partial tears in a couple of the surrounding tendons. Severe concussion. Your neck is..." She took a deep breath and let her hand wander down the side of it until her hand came to rest on his left collarbone. "There was a lot of swelling, heavy bruising of the upper cervical vertebrae. It was pressing on your nerves and..." She paused again, her face solemn as her eyes found his. "And they were worried about the amount of oxygen still going to your brain."

"So 'm dumb now?" He raised an eyebrow at her, assuming his body actually followed any of the cues he gave it.

"It's not funny."

No suppressed smirk, no twinkle in her eye. This was entirely serious then. She had been properly scared. Still was. He swallowed a testy remark and couldn't keep his face from flinching at the weird feeling.

"Tony, are you in pain? Where does it hurt?" She had come closer, both hands now cradling his face, like she wanted to take off some of the burden his giant head put on his neck. Not that she could and he was in bed, his head resting on a pillow. She was just scared.

"No. Jus' numb." He squinted down at his body, then back up at her. "My chest. Feels..." He frowned, not sure what he felt. "Feels weird."

Pepper's hand let go of his face. She picked up his hand again. "Your suit was... was quite severely damaged around the arc reactor and... well, some of the... of the metal bent..." She swallowed hard. "It bent towards your chest and your sternum... it didn't take it so well. They had to reconstruct a part of your ribcage and... well." She sighed.

"Hm," he couldn't really nod with his neck wrapped up like that. He did turn his gaze away from her though, then closed his eyes briefly as a wave of nausea hit him.

"You alright? Should I get the Doctor?"

He kept his eyes close, determined to keep his body under control. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Pepper squeezed his hands.

"Tony? What do you need?"

"Think I'm..." His brain was getting foggier. "Think 'm gonna sleep."

"Alright, darling." The pressure on his hands tightened. "Just rest, okay? I'll be here."

Tony couldn't quite find the strength to answer, to tell her not to worry. That he'd be fine. Probably.

* * *

###

* * *

_(author's note: Thank you guys so much for reading, the likes and your comments. _

_Have a lovely weekend. Next chapter will be out some time next week.)_


	32. I Thought We Were A Team - Chapter 32

**Chapter 32 - I Thought We Were A Team**

After Peter had been stabbed in a random ally way in Manhattan, during those weeks of healing and waiting around to do something productive outside of Mr. Stark's lab, he had often come to ponder the balance of freedom and safety. Before, he had felt invincible, as he had been swinging around the buildings of Queens, answering to no one but himself. Everything that happened, everything he did out on those streets happened because he willed it too. His power, his freedom was untouchable. Sure, the goggles on his head weren't as flashy and the material of his suit sometimes itched in the weirdest places, but nobody could tell him what to do. Nobody could hold him back.

All that was fun and games and he had certainly felt like a big shot superhero. Spider-Man, here to save the day. That illusion had come shattering down when he was attacked. When he thought he was going to die on that rooftop in Manhattan slowly bleeding out just because he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. The fall from his high horse was painful and humiliating. But he had been lucky. Lucky enough that Mr. Stark had taken pity on him. Had decided to help him out that night and even more so over the weeks that had followed, had given Peter guidance and support. Safety. Not just from the people who wanted to harm him, who saw their authority threatened by Peter's motivation to help, but even from his own team, from his friends, because Peter had not been ready to share his biggest secret with anyone else. In the darkest, loneliest nights he could even admit that the man was saving him a little from himself.

In those weeks when Peter had gained first an ally, then a mentor, maybe at some point even something like a friend? In those few weeks, his priorities had shifted dramatically. With every day his commitment to the alliance with Mr. Stark had grown and with that the underlying search for freedom and adventure was somewhat balanced out with a deep yearning for the stability and safety Mr. Stark had to offer. There was a sense of that freedome-spark that had come back to him when Mr. Stark had given the suit to him. The new feel of it, how fast and agile it was. That craving to feel invincible and free had stirred again.

None of that could hold a candle to the overwhelming rush of endorphins and adrenaline Peter felt the first time he took the suit out after he had enabled the new protocol. 576 web shooter combinations. Mr. Stark had gone completely overboard with those features and Peter was living for every second of it. He had spent hours trying out different settings in the woods beyond the Avengers Compound, had trained every day before and sometimes after he visited Mr. Stark. The city was no place to practice, not in the current climate. Not if he was supposed to impress the civilians, gain their trust back like Mr. Stark had asked. He could have done none of it without Karen. She was amazing.

It had been a week since he had hacked the suit. He had started to get with small things. Just to get back into the groove of things. Pulling people back onto the sidewalk when they didn't look before they stepped into the street, a few rescued balloons. On day three he had come across a robber on Greenpoint Avenue, just off 46th street. The temptation to take him out was just too strong and before Peter knew it he had followed the guy into the next building and had gotten himself into the middle of a heist in the Bank of America Financial Center. Seven guys with big guns and a few hostages. It had been the first chance to put the suit's rapid-fire to the test and just in the first couple of minutes, he took out three of them. It was safe to say that he hadn't felt that alive in a long time. That good about what he was doing. There was no question of loyalty, no weighing on who was right and who was wrong, no middle ground to argue about. These were criminals and he was there to stop them. So, he did.

Eleven civilians and five bank employees ran from the building unharmed when he web-wrapped up the last of the bank robbers. His job was done. The heist thwarted. No injuries to speak of. A success all around. Or it had been until Peter turned and stared down the barrel of yet another gun.

"That's it, freak. Hands up and on your knees."

Police. They had been fast. Faster than he had thought. He had heard the sirens, his senses had tingled alright but he thought that he had more time than this. Slowly, his fingers spread apart wide in a non-threatening gesture his arms rose above his head.

"Erm... Hi there, Sir. Captain." Peter's pulse was high but he did his best to focus on his senses, calm his nerves so he could figure out how to get out of there. "I... erm... cleaned up a bit for you. Saving you a bit of trouble."

"That's Chief to you, freak." The man obviously wasn't impressed by Peter's work which did sting a little even though Mr. Stark had warned him about those higher-ups in the NYPD and their ambition to cling to power. A couple more guys were starting to advance into the atrium hall of the bank. "I said, on your knees!"

"Karen, what's the fastest way to get out of here." The mask was a blessing. Nobody around him was ever able to tell when he was communicating with his suit's AI.

Different escape routes lit up in his head-up display as Karen analyzed the layout of the banks atrium, multiple exits and lighting up human signatures getting into position in different parts of the building. After just about two seconds of calculations one of those routes flashed up in green and the suit lady's calm voice rang in his ears.

_**"Pull yourself up to the second level, swing over the police officer in front of you and you will find a hallway that leads to an emergency exit where none of the police force is stationed as of yet. Make sure to tuck your legs close to your body when swinging up. I've calculated the man's reaction delay to .95 seconds. His bullet might still hit one of your legs if they are not pulled up high enough." **_

Great, those were fabulous odds. "Thanks, Karen."

"Listen, Sir, I really..." He got out half the sentence to try and throw the man off when the webs shot up from his shooters and hit one of the ceiling beams above him. With a hard pull, Peter catapulted himself upwards towards the open balcony on the second level. He felt the shock wave of the bullet graze the sole of his foot, heat radiated from the friction on the fabric, before the shot even rang in his ears.

"Fuck, Karen? Status?" He hit the ground running, careful to follow the green track she laid out for him to follow. There was no pain, but that didn't really mean anything with the amounts of adrenaline that were pumping through his veins and he was too busy - and a little too scared - to check if he had left blood-red footprints in his wake.

"The bullet grazed the boot of your right foot. No injury detected. The suit absorbed the impact completely."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Thank god. Or, well, he should thank Mr. Stark. And he would.

Peter made his escape over the rooftops of Queens. He went to the east, then up north until he hit the subway line where he got hold of one of the trains going east that took him further away from the scene as well as from his home, just in case someone had been able to follow. He lay low for a bit until he was sure that nobody was on his heels. That had sure been a lot more excitement than he had expected for 3:30 pm on a Thursday. Less than an hour later he was in the car on his way upstate.

Every day he took the trip to the Compound. It had been weird and eerie the first day he sat with Mr. Stark. All he could do was stop himself from getting emotional when he wondered what happened. Again and again. Things got a little easier with every day. He just sat there and told the man about his day. About stuff, he'd been reading and watching. There had been a part of him that wanted to keep his crime-fighting stories to himself. His mentor would be mad if he found out that Peter had been on patrol without giving the man the chance to check the suit for malfunctions or problems. He did run those checks on the suit, but he wouldn't even pretend to himself that it would have been enough for Mr. Stark. His first impulse was to keep quiet about his secret patrols, but once he was in the room it had only taken about 10 minutes for him to crack and gush about the advanced setting of his suit for over an hour. It was the best, amazingly precise, so clever and helpful.

So what, if there was a chance that Mr. Stark could actually hear him and get mad? Maybe he shouldn't have gone out by himself and gotten hurt like that. Then he would have had all the time in the world to check over Peter's suit. Maybe he was listening and would get so annoyed with Peter that he just had to wake up.

It was a challenge for him, not to stay mad. Not to ponder the would've-could've that had caused this dilemma. It was a challenge to push down the anger and concentrate on the positive vibes, the hope that maybe soon, Mr. Stark would wake up again.

On day nine Peter opened the door to the room and he couldn't contain the surprised gasped as he looked at his mentor. The breathing tube was gone, replaced by a much smaller transparent tube attached to his nose. That... He took a few deep breaths as he stepped closer to the bed. That had to be a good sign. Right? It must be.

"It's a good thing, right FRIDAY?" He had sat down on the ground next to the bed, one hand clasped around his mentor's wrist, his index and middle finger pressed against Mr. Stark's pulse point. "It means that he's breathing on his own. It means that he will wake up soon, right?

**_"I have no further information on the subject, I'm afraid."_**

He shot an annoyed glance up to the ceiling, then turned back to his mentor, his eyes not leaving the man's face. FRIDAY was no use when it came to information on Mr. Stark's medical status, but Peter was sure. He could wake up at any moment. He absolutely could.

Only he didn't. No twitching, no signs of consciousness at all. Peter stayed longer than he should have to make his curfew in hopes that something would happen, that the man would just show one sign, any sign of waking up. It was 10 pm when Peter finally checked the time. Not that anyone was home to check up on him anyway. His aunt had left for a double shift that afternoon. She wouldn't be home by midday the next day. A Sunday night shift directly followed by the morning shift on a public holiday so she would be home in time for the fireworks. Yeah, tomorrow was the 4th of July.

Peter kind of hated that he had been enough of a fanboy to know that it would be Steve Rogers' 98th birthday. Well, it wasn't a difficult date to remember. America's birthday and Captain America's birthday. He wondered what the 4th of July had been like in the 20s and 30s when Steve Rogers had just been a boy in Brooklyn. They probably didn't have all that many fireworks back in the day. The city went crazy with them now. Or that's what Uncle Ben used to say. They would always watch them blow up all around the city from their rooftop in Queens. This year would be their first 4th of July without him. So, yeah, there was that, too.

Peter's chin came to rest on his outstretched arm, fingers still curled around Mr. Stark's wrist. He had never had this with Uncle Ben. The waiting. The hoping. His uncle had just been gone. From one moment to the next, just like that. If Peter had gotten his shit together a little sooner, maybe he could have done something about it. Maybe Uncle Ben could have been one of those people he would have saved if he had just stepped up in time. Beyond all the lies and all the deceit, all the danger Peter had put himself in without his aunt knowing, would that be the worst thing of them all? When she would find out eventually. When she would ask for the details about his bite, about his abilities, would that question be on her mind? Why Peter hadn't done something? If he wanted to risk himself and save people, why hadn't he saved Ben?

A shiver shook Peter from head to toe and he rearranged his position, scooted closed to the bed, knees pulled tightly to his chest. They had never really talked about what had happened to Uncle Ben. Peter and his aunt. He knew of course. He had seen the shooter. He had heard the shots. Then he had run. Not to stop the guy, just... away. Scared and craven.

They never really talked about his parents either. Sometimes Peter couldn't help but wonder what they would say. Would his mom be scared for him? Would his dad be proud? His aunt and uncle had never really spoken of them. That one day a year when they would put down flowers at the shore of the sea. He'd never been to their graves even, the drive up there had just never worked out. That one day a year. It was healthy, right? To move on. Not to be trapped by the past. It was nobody else's business anyway so why should they go out of their way to explain their personal stuff to other people? Just a few months ago that little old lady from the second floor had given him a pair of eggs she had borrowed from May and asked him to thank his mother. Well, so what... He knew who she meant. Peter had only ever told Ned one night when he had stayed over. And then Mr. Stark. He knew as well. A bit at least. Not that there was much to know. There weren't even really a lot of pictures of them around the house, just an old family photo from when Peter was maybe 5 or 6 that he kept in his desk drawer. There wasn't much to say about it, they were dead. Just like Ben. He couldn't change that.

His eyes wandered up to his mentor's face. Mr. Stark was still here. And if he— when he would wake up, Peter could definitely be of help to keep it like that.

It was way past 11 pm when FRIDAY pulled him out of his thoughts as she announced Miss Potts' arrival at the Compound. He groaned when he saw the time. It would be close to 1 am by the time he would make it back to the city. And then he'd just leave again the next morning to come back out here so he could make it back to Queens by the time May got off work.

"Hey, FRIDAY?"

**_"Yes, Peter?"_**

"Do you think... you think it'd be okay if I stayed in the room for the night? You know, the one I sometimes stayed in? I mean, like... will you let me in there?"

**_"Your room is ready for you to use whenever you need it, Peter."_**

He bit his lip, his eyes on Mr. Stark. "Thank you, Sir," he whispered.

The night at the Compound was quiet and comfortable. He did sleep in until after 10 am. The Compound was still basically empty and while Peter still moved around with caution and avoided going near the lab or Mr. Stark's rooms just to lessen the chances that he would run into Miss Potts, he did dare to make a quick detour to the kitchen for breakfast. The fridge wasn't stocked to the brim like it usually was, but he still found a couple of sandwiches that he took with him to Mr. Stark's room in the medical wing. FRIDAY had confirmed that nobody was in the room and Peter tiptoed through the hallways as quietly and quickly as he could.

Mr. Stark looked peaceful and content. Peter could totally talk himself into how the man's face had a little more color in it already - though that was probably just because the cuts and bruises were healing and his face looked healthier in contrast. His blood pressure was up though, so was the count of his heartbeats per minute. He didn't need FRIDAY to tell him that. He could feel the rhythm underneath the man's skin. As glum as Peter's general mood was, that did pick up his spirits. While he had just been sitting there and brooded the night before, he felt a lot more like chatting in the morning.

So he told Mr. Stark about the fireworks display, what he expected to see. How Uncle Ben had always made a game of guessing the color of the next firework or the spot in the sky where the next one would explode. It was almost easier to talk to Mr. Stark now. Peter could actually finish a sentence and didn't have to worry about saying something dumb. No. He shook the thought from his head. That wasn't fair. Mr. Stark had let him talk. He'd just sit and listen when they would work on one of the projects. Would just listen to Peter's stories about patrolling in Queens, weird commercials or funny memes he had seen somewhere, sometimes even some of the stuff that had happened at school, good or bad. It had always been easy to talk to Mr. Stark.

The man would even chime in with his weird jokes, the no-bullshit comments when he was in a good mood.

Peter sighed when he realized that he had gotten lost in his thoughts once again. He didn't want to spiral down like he had the night before, dispelled the thoughts of what he would do if he would lose Mr. Stark. It couldn't happen. He was doing better and when things were back to normal, Peter would make sure that this didn't happen again. That Mr. Stark wouldn't just go out on his own and risk his neck for everyone else.

"You do have to wake up because... because if you don't then who would keep tally of all the cats I saved and measure them against the people I prevented from walking face-first into things. I'd have to tell May and then maybe we'd both be dead."

That was a little crude. Peter smirked. Mr. Stark would have probably liked that one. He wasn't dead. It was just a coma. Just. He'd wake up. He simply had to.

Peter had his arms folded on the bed, his head resting on top of them. His right hand loosely held a couple of his mentor's fingers, his thumb and index finger took turns rubbing soft circles on the back of the man's hand, along his fingers. It had felt a little weird at first but Mr. Stark had done the same thing for him whenever he'd been hurt or freaked. It was only right to give that comfort back now. Not that there was any way to know if he'd even feel it. If he even felt anything anymore.

_**"Peter, Miss Potts has just left Dr. Cho's office and is on the way to this room."**_

He jumped up at once. "Shit." The sandwich wrappers of his breakfast were still on the ground and he quickly picked them up to get rid of the evidence, leaving breadcrumbs on the floor in the process. "Damn it." He kicked them underneath the bed.

She was way too close. He had gone about this warning system of his all wrong. Should not have just asked if someone was in the room, but also who was close by. For fuck's sake. He quietly pulled open the door but heard her steps echo down from the hallway around the corner right away. Cursing under his breath, he closed the door again and quickly retreated to the back of the room. One jump was enough to get him to the top of the wardrobe and Peter was once more folded into that tiny space where he had hidden on the first day he had found his mentor. He could only hope that this would be a quick visit.

The moment the door opened he shrunk back as far as he could. His mouth was slightly open, keeping his breath controlled and quiet. It was only Miss Potts who entered, but he wasn't all that sure if that was likely to make her stay last longer or not.

"Tony?" Her voice was soft, the words were spoken before she had even reached the bed. There was a chair on the left side of the room, that Peter usually ignored. To him, it felt too official, too formal, but Miss Potts pulled it closer, as close to the bed as it would go before she sat down and took Mr. Stark's hand in one of hers, the other softly stroked up and down on his cheek. "Tony? Honey, do you hear me?"

The breath in Peter's throat got stuck, deep enough to choke him when Mr. Stark's hand seemed to actually close around hers and his head slowly tilted from left to right. His eyebrows moved, were pulled together then up almost all the way to his hairline and with them, his eyelids slid open.

Peter had to clasp both of his hands over his mouth to stifle the gasp of air his lungs had been determined to draw. He closed his eyes in the same motion, absolutely sure that they must have heard him but when he looked back up, Miss Potts had just leaned forward and was soothing Mr. Stark whose face was screwed up in agony as she helped him through a few deep coughs. Her right hand carefully swept the hair from his forehead then ran all the way through the man's hair.

"It's alright, Tony. Just breath. You're okay."

The man's eyes were closed but after a few raspy breaths he looked back up at her.

"Hey." Peter could hear the smile on her face just from the softness of her voice.

"Hi." Mr. Stark croaked back.

He was... Peter's lungs were urging him to hyperventilate but he couldn't let it happen. He pressed his eyes shut again, tried to think of something calming, anything. Mr. Stark's voice when he explained something about electronics. A quiet practice session of the on the decathlon team. May's apple pie. He couldn't freak out. Now was the absolute worst time for a panic attack. This... this was good. It didn't matter that his eyes stung, it was from relief, happiness. He was safely hidden as long as he stayed quiet and from what he could tell, from what his eyes had told him and he did open them up again just to be sure. Yes, if he could trust his eyes that meant... that meant that he was back. Mr. Stark was awake, eyes open even if still heavy-lidded, but open and responsive.

"H'w... how's Rhodey?"

She shook her head and sniffed with a low chuckle. "Good morning to you too, dear."

"Pep."

"He wants to come and see you today."

"Hm, 's not..." Mr. Stark closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Not wha' I asked."

"I haven't seen him today, Tony. I assume he's obsessing over how you are. You two are like two pea in a pot."

Painfully slow Mr. Stark's eyes opened up again. "When... when's he gonna... gonna come by?"

Miss Potts sighed. "I'm not sure if he has any procedures or physical therapy on his schedule today. I'll check with him."

"Now?" Mr. Stark's eyebrows were pulled up and he almost... he almost looked like himself.

He was really awake. There was euphoria streaming through Peter's body. He was happy and relieved and so so glad, but it wasn't just the tears that burned in his eyes. There was also a snug firm knot in his stomach. Something that lay underneath all that. With the relief rushing through his veins and evaporating on his skin, it lay bare what was underneath all that worry. The pain. The anger. The frustration. Peter shook the thoughts from his head. This wasn't the time. There would be time for it later when Mr. Stark was doing better. He could ask all the questions about everything that happened later. Could tell him what an idiot he'd been to go out there all alone. Peter bit his lip and blinked away the moisture in his eyes. Well, maybe he wouldn't say that. Not... not in so many words.

"I'll put it on the top of my to-do list, alright?" Miss Potts leaned back a bit, both hands now clasping his. "Do you need anything? Water?"

Mr. Stark gave a tiny shake to the side, eyes falling shut and staying closed for longer and longer intervals.

"How are you feeling? Do you hurt? Should I... should I get someone?"

"No, jus'..." he took a couple of deep breaths. "Just need s'me rest."

"I can still stay for a bit. Keep you some company."

"Hm..." The man's eyes were still closed. "Can you... the frame... frame in my office."

"The frame?"

"Drawer... third one."

"You want me to get a frame out of a drawer in your office?"

Mr. Stark's eyes slowly opened again. "Please."

"Of course. I can... yes, of course. I'll have a look." He had his eyes still on her, waiting. "Oh, you... you mean now?"

"Please, Pep," he whispered.

"Alright, I..." she stood up at once, the chair sliding back as she did. "Is it... will I just know it when I see it or..?"

His eyes hadn't really followed her, they were turned down to where her hand was still holding his. "Yeah... 's Addy," he said, almost inaudible.

She nodded quickly. "Of course, honey. I'll... I'll stop by Rhodey's room and then I'll get it right away." She bowed down and pressed a light kiss on the man's cheek, then put down his hand next to his body. "I'll be fast."

She was gone as quickly as she had entered the room. Right away as the door fell shut, Peter's mind was racing. Now what? He couldn't just pop up. He might give Mr. Stark a shock to the core and put him back in the coma. Or worse even, a heart attack or stroke or—

"I mus' be... be havin'... a fever dream." Peter twitched in surprise. His mentor's voice was not much more than a croak, his eyes still heavy-lidded, his gaze, however, was squarely on Peter. "My intern can't... can't seri'sly be hangin' from... from the f'kin' ceiling of my hospital room."

Peter's heart jumped but he couldn't help the small smile on his lips, maybe it was the euphoria that was pushing his brain to the edge of delirium. "Technically, you're not in a hospital, Sir."

"Ge' down fr'm there a' once!" Mr. Stark blurted out in a cheap imitation of his usually commanding voice. "Wha' if someb'dy had seen 'ou up there?"

Peter crawled a bit further into the room and then dropped off the ceiling. He landed on his feet, facing Mr. Stark. For a moment Peter wasn't sure what to do next. He played with his fingers, snipping them back and forth before he stepped closer to the bed.

"You wouldn't believe how little people look up to the ceiling of a room. They're less likely to find me up there. Did you actually see me?"

"Was lookin' righ' at 'ou, kid." He blinked a couple of times, fighting to keep his glance leveled. "You gasped."

Peter gnawed on the inside of his cheek. He had.

"Was jus'... matter of time... then she'd see 'ou."

He pulled the chair Miss Potts had vacated closer to the bed and slowly sat down. Mr. Stark's eyes followed him.

"I was always careful."

"A'ways?"

Peter looked away from him, dropped his eyes down to his hands, fingers picking at each other. All this time even with all the danger of being discovered he had known for sure that he was doing the right thing. Keeping Mr. Stark company, making sure that someone was by his side, had felt like the right thing to do. But now, now that his mentor was awake, had just sent out his friend-girlfriend-CEO-well what did he know what they were to each other. He had sent her on an errand to cover for Peter. And all of a sudden, he wasn't all that sure anymore if this had been the right thing to do. If he had any right or excuse to even be in that room.

"You a'ight, kid?"

"Me?" His voice was pitched high, way too childlike. "You gotta be fucking kidding me, Sir."

"Hm..." Mr. Stark frowned up at him. "Tha' was a dollar fo' the swear jar."

Peter's eyes stung. "That's not funny."

The corners of the man's mouth twitched. "Bit funny."

It wasn't and he knew it. It was not funny at all. This all of this—

"You mad, kid?"

He couldn't meet the man's eyes.

"Huh." Mr. Stark's breaths were slow but shallow. "You are..."

Peter shook his head, not that denial would help him. Of course, he was mad. But that didn't matter now.

"What happened?"

His voice was rough. He just couldn't manage to keep the emotion out of it. Mr. Stark was just watching him, heavy lids closing every so often.

Peter tried again, tried to put more force into his words. "Sir, what happened?"

There was another moment of silence where the man just looked at him. "There 's a fight." He lost the focus of his gaze for a moment before he blinked again, his eyes glued to Peter's face. "I lost."

"What fight?"

Mr. Stark's head just gave a little shake, lips tight. "It 'oesn't matter."

"It matters to me. Why didn't you say something? You didn't have to go on your own. You should have just—"

"No."

Peter's breathing was heavy. He couldn't quite control the anger that was rushing through him. Anger not just at whoever had done this to his mentor, but that the man hadn't thought to ask for help.

"I could have helped you..."

"Stop..."

"...I mean," He did try to put on a sarcastic tone but he just couldn't help the temper that slipped into his voice. "I really thought we had this team thing going..."

"Pete..."

"...I thought that you'd trust me enough to—"

"Stop!" The man's voice was still low, but there was an edge to it that had made Peter stop mid-sentence. Mr. Stark swallowed and judging by the look on his face it wasn't a very pleasant motion. "No, Pete. 'm glad, you weren't there."

"But, Sir..." Peter couldn't stay in the chair any longer. This wasn't fair. How was he supposed to help if he didn't even know what was going on? Mr. Stark's eyes followed him as he paced back and forth.

The man's breathing turned heavier, faster. "You'd not be 'n this room, in this buildin' if I didn' trust you, kid."

Peter kept his distance. It had been different when Mr. Stark had been unconscious. He had still looked hurt and vulnerable, but also like he was just sleeping, resting to recover. This... The state of the man, how weak and beaten his movements were, hardly enough energy to keep his eyes open, it made Peter's stomach turn. It scared him to even be in his presence. To see him this vulnerable.

"Pete..." Mr. Stark's voice was so quiet it was difficult to follow despite Peter's enhanced hearing. "It's alright." He took a couple of deep breaths, eyes still on Peter. "It'll be alright."

"How... how can you even say that?" Peter whispered. He rubbed a hand across his face to forestall his tears from falling. He hated this, hated not having a better grip on his emotions. "You were in a coma. 10 days I... nobody knew if you were even gonna wake up. It's not alright. It's not!" He couldn't stop his voice from rising.

"10 days, huh?" Mr. Stark closed his eyes, only opened them again a few deep breaths later. "Well... 'ou... you should see... the other guy."

"Don't. Don't do that." Peter swallowed hard, his eyes more so on the bedframe than the man himself. "Don't try to brush this off like—"

**_"Peter, Miss Potts is preparing to return to Mr. Stark's room."_**

Peter swung around towards the door as if she was going to walk in there any moment.

"Made 'ourself feel... quite at home, hm?"

Heat shot into Peter's face. "It's... it's not like that, I just—"

"Don't wanna run... into Pepper." Mr. Stark took a couple of heavy breathy. "That's... sensible."

Peter shrugged. "Just tried to keep my head low."

"An' FRIDAY helped 'ou out?"

He nodded and send a quick shot up to one of FRIDAY's cameras. "Yeah... yeah, she's been a great help."

"Hm... goo' girl." His lids fell shut and for a moment it seemed like he had fallen asleep, but then he blinked them open again. "Better go, kid, unless..." Mr. Stark frowned at him. "No, 'ou should go." He gave a couple of small nod to himself "Come back... come back tomorrow an' we'll... we'll sort... sort the suit. I know... I know... said... we would. 'ou wanna get... back out."

Cold rushed through Peter's body. He almost twitched in response to the shiver that went down his spine. If Mr. Stark found out that Peter had been out there... had been in his files, snooped around on his private server... urgh, he didn't even want to imagine that. Plus, the next day would be a workday at the store for him.

Peter looked up at the men and all that went right out of his mind. His anger, maybe not gone but certainly back on the backburner. His mentor was lying there, struggling to stay conscious. How was the suit the first thing he thought of?

"Sir, I think you may still need a few days till you can get back to the lab."

Mr. Stark pursed his lips, defiance radiating from him like he had just stepped into the lab with a new plan. "Can talk 'ou through wha' te do."

Peter bit his lip. The way the man just stubbornly clung to his ability to just do as he pleased filled Peter's heart with an equal amount of respect and worry. Anger from how careless he sometimes was with himself.

"It's fine, Mr. Stark. I... I can't tomorrow. I mean... I guess maybe later that day but you... you should rest anyway. We can... it's fine."

Mr. Stark narrowed his eyes on him "Didn't go out there... without the check-up, right? Pete, tell me 'ou—"

"No, Sir. I... I didn't." He wasn't lying. He wasn't. He had not gone out there before the suit wasn't checked properly. He could even meet the man's eyes without blushing. "I know you didn't want me to use it before it had been checked for defects."

The man's eyebrows narrowed even more at that. "What's t'morrow then?"

"I just... I gotta work tomorrow."

Mr. Stark just stared at him, his mouth opened a couple of times without any sound coming out of it. Then he cleared his throat, his voice still filled with confusion. "But... I'm... I'm here."

Peter shook his head. "No, not you, I... I have another job."

The man blinked at him, then his eyebrow shot up all the way. "You... you go' a job? Bu'—"

**_"Ms. Potts just left the lab and is on the way down here now."_**

"Shit. I... Sir, I gotta go. I'll tell FRIDAY when I'm on my way. Tomorrow evening. I can make it back by then." He was almost at the door.

"Pete—"

"Depends on my aunt's schedule." He reached for the door handle then turned back to look at his mentor. "I'm really glad you're back, Sir."

The man opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Peter was already out in the hallway.

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[author's note: Thank you all for the great feedback, the favorites, subscriptions, and overall love.

The last chapter, this one and the next used to be one chapter, but somehow I had more to write than I originally thought ;) At least that's three updates for you, so another one will be up in the next few days ;) Hope you enjoyed the read.]


	33. Looking For Trouble - Chapter 33

**Chapter 33 - Looking For Trouble**

Tony closed his eyes, took a few breaths that were supposed to be deep, filling his lungs, but turned out shallow and fast. A five-minute conversation with the kid and he was exhausted, ready to pass out again. He couldn't though. Pepper was on her way. Slow enough not to run into the kid, hopefully.

"Hi, FRI?" He coughed from the sting in his throat as he had raised his voice. "FRI, wha' I miss?"

**_"Welcome back, Boss. You've been unconscious for 10 days and 14 hours. I have been keeping a—"_**

"D'es anyone know? 'Bout Siberia? Wha'... what happ'nd?"

_**"Sir, the information on your movements as well as the connected vitals, the audio and video data of the 23rd of June have been encrypted and are currently stored on your private server."**_

He closed his eyes, an effort to center his thoughts, concentrate on what was important. On what he had to take care of.

"N'body... nobody knows then—" The cough that worked its way out of his throat wasn't so much painful as it was strangling. Yep, those had to be some heavy meds. "kn—knows who else w's... was in the... the bunker?"

_**"Miss Hill and her team brought back Captain Rogers' shield but have so far failed to gather any detailed information on what happened in the bunker."**_

Tony nodded, focused on his breathing. "Goo' girl, FRI."

It had to stay like that. He couldn't... he wouldn't do this. He couldn't bear to have all of this dragged back up, have everyone psychoanalyze him. It was in the past. He couldn't change what happened. Nobody could. There was no point in dwelling on the details... the details of Steve Rogers' fucking betrayal. The humiliation and pain... All the times Rogers had looked at him and unblushingly lied to his fucking—

The door opened softly, slow enough to give Tony a few seconds to get his spiraling thoughts in order. Pepper wasn't alone this time.

"Agent Hill," he whispered, trying to keep as much strength in his voice as he could muster.

"Mr. Stark."

"Hey..." Pepper's hand found his, warm fingers snaked around him and held it tight.

Agent Maria Hill had her arms crossed as she stood tall behind Pepper. "How are you feeling, Tony."

"People... keep asking me that. 'm startin' te think... 'm havin' a bad... bad hair day or somethin'..."

She cocked her head to the side and he avoided her glance. Yeah, he was overcompensation his physical state with his brilliant wit, what of it? Pepper had his eyes on him as well, eyebrows knitted together in worry and silent disapproval. They all acted like him getting hurt was the end of the world. Like they hadn't been here, multiple times. His eyes were heavy and he let them fall shut without hesitation. At least that way he didn't have to see the look at either of their faces.

"Tony, Maria has some questions, if you feel up for it."

He huffed. Of course, Agent Hill had questions. Maria, Pepper, Peter, everyone was just full of questions. He blinked a couple of times before he gave in to the exhaustion and let his eyes stay closed. His vision was starting to darken at the edges. He'd pass out soon. All this was too much. That was probably for the better. It would give him time to think of something. There was no way that the whole "because I said so" routine he had pulled on the kid would work on either of these women.

But there was something he wanted. Yes, he had sent Pepper on an errand on purpose but it wasn't a request he had just made up. He hadn't even had to think about it, just wanted it as soon as he could think of anything that wasn't Siberia and the state of his chest.

"No'..." He squinted at Pepper. "Not now. Pep, I..." He rubbed a hand across his face. Not yet, he couldn't pass out yet. His hand muffled his voice but Pepper would hear. "You... you go' it?"

"The erm..." She pulled her purse closer, then shot a glance over her shoulder. "Maria, maybe... maybe this is too soon for him. He needs some more rest."

"I understand that this is a lot, I do." Agent Hill's voice was low and way too reasonable. "There are some things we have to work out. The faster we know who was involved in—"

"Come back this afternoon." Pepper had risen from her chair, turned to her. "You've waited for 10 days. A few more hours are not going to matter. Tony needs rest, needs to regain some strength."

"Pepper, with all due respect, as the person who was left in charge of the Com—"

"You don't want to finish that sentence, believe me." Tony's eyes blinked open all the way at the icy tone of Pepper's voice. "None of this. Not the land, the building, the tiles you're standing on would even be here for the Avengers to use if it wasn't for Tony and Stark Industries. I know you have questions but right now, he needs rest. So, he'll get to rest."

They stared at each other for what felt like a good minute before Maria Hill inclined her head at Pepper. "I'll be back at three then." She pursed her lips but then did put in the effort to pull her mouth into a somewhat encouraging half-smile as she looked at him. "You rest. Regain your strength. It's good to have you back, Tony."

Only as the door closed behind Maria Hill did Pepper's shoulders move up and down with a few deep breaths.

"No' gon'a lie. Tha'... that was kin'a hot." Usually, he'd put more snark into his tone, but for now, he was happy to get out a somewhat fluent string of words. Pepper turned to him, an eyebrow pulled up and her mouth curling into a bit of a smile. Wasn't that a sight for sore eyes?

"It's not a hard sell, dear. You look like you'll pass out any minute anyway."

"Hm." He sure felt like it.

"I do want to know what happened. You're not going to just get away with no explanation." The frown on her forehead was back as she crossed her arms. "Your... your little friend was here."

Tony's heart skipped a beat. A surge of adrenaline pushed his brain into a more attentive state. He just about stopped his jaw from dropping but couldn't help but stutter out a quiet. "Wh-what?"

"The spider-guy." She sighed then pulled the chair closer to the bed again and sat down. "I found his backpack with the suit in your lab. And I don't even want to know how he got in and out of the Compound. I did tell FRIDAY to put the alert system to DC2."

Tony turned his gaze up to the ceiling for a moment, deep breaths to keep his brain going. He had set Peter's security level up to an A2 after the Lagos incident. Thank god he did get things right sometimes.

"I can't believe you build the guy a suit, Tony. If Ross finds out he's going to hound you for this."

He looked at her, tried to get his voice under control. "He been in touch? Ross?"

Pepper nodded. "Constantly on the first day, until I called him and reminded him that you don't actually work for him and that he has no right to pester you for anything lower than a code B2. It's been quiet since." She rubbed a finger across her forehead, like rubbing away an unpleasant thought. "I honestly expected him to make some shit up and call again, but we were lucky so far." Then she squinted at him from underneath her hand. "And don't change the subject."

"It's... bi' of a hostile climate fo' heroes out there... righ' now."

She blew out a deep breath. "I guess it is. I still don't like that you take these kinds of risks. Not for yourself and not for other random people."

He would have shrugged if his shoulders hadn't felt like giant blocks of granite. "Par' of the job."

"Well, I don't like that job, either."

He drew in a few deep breaths, felt the urge to draw up the corner of his mouth in a smirk but then thought better of it. "I know, Pep."

For a moment, she just sat there, hands folded in her lap. There wasn't much to add to that part of the conversation for either of them. She didn't like that Tony put his life on the line like he had for the past few years. She hated it. Lost sleep, her appetite, way too much weight in the process. For the bad parts of it, he had found her crying in her office more than once. It was too much and he could accept that. But as long as that threat was still out there lurking in the shadows of space he couldn't drop this fight, couldn't just stand by and watch. So there had only been one conclusion to the destiny of their relationship.

Pepper had broken it off, too exhausted to continue and he had hated every second of it. She was right, of course. It hadn't been healthy, the way she had been trying to cope with everything, especially after the whole Extremis debacle.

She had been right and it didn't matter how much Tony loved her, how much he needed her. How much she loved him, too. Their relationship hadn't been working. It would destroy her and he would never let that happen.

"Pep?" She looked up at him at that. "Di' you find it?"

The frame appeared out of her bag like an anchor conjured out of thin air and Tony had to bite back a sigh as she pushed it into his waiting hands. The dark wood felt warm underneath his fingers. The frame had been his mother's. It had sat on her nightstand for years, containing one of the few candid photos that had existed of his family. A four-year-old Tony on his mom's lab, his dad bent down, pressing a kiss onto his wife's hair while his hands rested on Tony's shoulders.

Tony had burned the picture. The night he had learned that his father had crashed his car into a fucking tree, killing the person he loved most in the world.

25 years he had blamed Howard for that. 25 years he had hated him. Howard had never been a particularly good father. Never really loving or attentive, preoccupied with bigger, more important things than a little boy. Tony had wanted to be better than that.

His eyes stung and he rapidly blinked the frustration away. The frame now held a picture of him and Aiden. The first time he had held his son in the hospital. There were other pictures of them from that first week. Pepper had hired a professional photographer and those, those were beautiful pictures as well. But Pepper had taken this one.

His fingers rubbed along the frame and the image of his mom came back to him, calling out for her husband, struggling with the Winter Soldier's hand around her neck. The frame slipped through his fingers and landed on his chest. He grunted at the impact and his stomach turned. For a terrifying moment, he thought he was going to throw up. His fingers were shaking as he desperately tried to take off the back of the frame.

"Tony?"

Pepper's hands were warm and steady, slowed him, until he stopped his frantic attempts to dismantle the frame. One by one she pulled his fingers loose and then balanced the frame on her lap. The back came off easily in her hands and she carefully took out the picture. Tony couldn't help but stare at the soft expression on her face as she looked at the photograph, eyes moving back and forth, taking in every detail.

"I've always loved this picture. It felt so wrong, taking it at the time, but now... now I'm glad that... that you have this." She bit her lip like she wanted to say more but decided not to and put the picture into Tony's hands instead.

For the longest time, frame and picture had been buried at the bottom of a drawer in his LA office. He had only moved it to a more accessible spot in his desk when they had gone to New York full time, after the Malibu house had been blown up. Then with him to the Compound, after Ultron. It's not that he looked at it a lot, but there was something about just having it close by. About having the option to look at it, whenever he wanted to, that was soothing for his soul. Shaky fingers moved across the photo, the little bundle in his arms. Aiden had been so small, so vulnerable. Hadn't even known, how much he had already lost.

Tony blinked away the moisture that stung in his eyes and quickly moved the picture underneath the sheets, where his hand held it in place just above his heart. Pepper reached for his hand on top of the covers and carefully squeezed away the soft tremor. Her other hand ran through his hair, along his scalp and he closed his eyes giving into the sensation.

He didn't know how much time had past when he woke up, but Pepper was gone. His hands had both slid down to his sides and he quickly checked for the picture, then moved it underneath his pillow instead. The last light of the day was fading outside the window. This had been a little than a nap.

"FRI," he whispered, his voice still terribly weak. "What's the time?"

_**"It's 8:04 pm, Boss."**_

He couldn't really enjoy his peace and quiet all that long. At least it gave him some time to get his story straight. It took less than 30 minutes for Agent Hill to turn up in his room again. At least Pepper was by her side as she entered, so he didn't have to tell the tale twice. He could always feign a certain amount of memory loss, but it would get him far. He mixed some facts into his story and that just had to be enough for them. They could always go and hunt down Rogers, get some details out of him, though Tony doubted that the supersoldier would show his face any time soon. He better not.

"Five super soldiers?"

"That's right," Tony whispered.

"And you killed them all."

"All... yeah, all dead."

"And the Hydra agents you fought? How many were there? And why did Steve leave his shield behind?"

Tony gave a small shrug. Yeah, he didn't really have a good explanation for that one. "Passed out. Don'... don' remember."

Maria sighed. "Come on, Tony. We've been screening the skies for Steve. He might be hurt, too. You have to remember something. How did you find Steve in the first place? Ross is still looking for him as well."

"Ask Wilson." Tony blinked at her and gave his head a couple of shakes. That was it from him. He was done, determined not to let the absolute disinterest about where Steve Rogers was and if he was hurt or not, slip into his features.

"Do you have any way to get in contact with him?"

"No," he lied effortlessly. The last thing he wanted was any form of contact with Rogers. Ever. Fuck him. Fuck the whole lot of them.

Her fingers drummed on the tablet in her hands. She sighed audibly, her gaze straight on him. "Well, if that's all you remember..."

Tony grunted a mostly unrecognizable "yes" and Agent Hill couldn't do much more than take him at his word. Sure, there were ways to find out how much he had been lying about what had really happened in that cave, but none of them would get to that data. It was encrypted on his server. Not even Obi had managed to get into his files with the full engineering staff of Stark Industries at his disposal.

Maria Hill was one thing. Convincing Pepper was another. But Tony let his eyes fall shut again when she didn't say a word to question his story either. Instead, she left the room with Agent Hill only to return a few minutes later, pushing Rhodey's wheelchair in front of her.

His head was swimming with guilt. She knew him too well. Knew too well that what he had done to his best friend would be the best weapon against him. The best lever to get at all his secrets. Well, not this time. This was too personal. Humiliatingly personal. The truth behind his true defeat in that bunker was too much to share, even with them. The guilt of what happened to Rhodey would be enough to occupy him. He didn't need to get into another thing with them, another loss. Not now. After everything, this would surely break him, maybe beyond repair.

"I'm sorry, Rhodey."

"It's not your fault and you know that."

Did he now... Tony looked away from his friend. "My tech failed 'ou."

"Tones, I fell like a brick out of the sky. Without your tech, I'd be dead."

"Without my tech, 'ou 'd no' been in the sky in the fi'st place."

His voice was slurring heavier than before and it let a sense of weakness spread through him. Maybe he looked bad enough for them not to bother him on the details of Siberia. Maybe they would just believe him.

Rhodey stayed a bit longer, determined to take some of that guilt off of Tony's shoulders. With moderate success. Pepper too stayed close, though kept a little more distance the more his mind started to settle into normalcy. Helen Cho stopped by and explained her treatment plan. Now that he was awake she could start a more aggressive approach on the regrowth of tissue that they had held back from during his coma.

"It would have put too much stress on your body and even now we'll have to start slow, but I think we should get the first round of treatment done as soon as possible. Tonight, if you feel up to it."

"He's been out of the coma for only about a day, Helen." Pepper was hovering close to his bed, clearly signaling support while she tried to keep things between them friendly and less intimate. Even now her hand would twitch towards his, but she pulled it back just before her fingers brushed his skin.

"We'll start small. But the sooner we do, the better the chances of a smooth recovery will be. There will be less pain, which means fewer meds. You'll feel less foggy."

Tony nodded. "Fine. Okay." No point in dragging it out. The sooner they started the quicker he'd be on his feet, the smaller the chances that Ross would get wind of any of this.

Two sessions in the cradle. One that very night, another one early the next morning. Most of the time in between he had spent in bed, passed out, his body recovering from the procedure. Pepper brought him breakfast, if one wanted to call it that. Solid food was not in the cards yet. At least her smoothies were better than Dum-E's. She talked about the company for the most part, the projects and organizing she had done while he had been out of commission. They stayed away from their personal issues, from anything that could bring back the tension. This was a temporary holiday from their fighting. He knew that. She made an effort not to hit any sore spots, not to press him on anything they could argue about in earnest.

It was past noon when he woke up from another nap and found himself alone in the room at last. Helen had been right, his head was clearer. He could think a little straighter. This was better. This was a lot better.

He tried to move his feet enough to sit up, but it seemed that he wasn't there yet. He was still stuck in that bed. A whole 10 minutes he spent just lying there, on his back, one hand shoved underneath his pillow, fingers trailing the picture he had hidden there. There were a whole lot of things waiting for him to be fixed as soon as he'd be able to get back to the lab. The suit was shredded. He'd have to rebuild, maybe redesign. The arc had been too vulnerable the way he had designed it. Nothing like Siberia could ever happen again. The way the faceplate was ripped off, his head exposed. He had been just been stranded right there. A major redesign would be—

"FRI—," he croaked, his voice only a rasp. Tony cleared his throat and tried again. "FRIDAY, is the kid on his way?"

**_"Not yet, Sir. Peter is still at his summer job."_**

Tony did a double-take and stared up at the camera when the memory of their conversation slowly came back. The kid had mentioned a job, but honestly Tony had thought—

"The kid actually got another job?" He huffed. What the hell. "Why and... and where?"

_**"Peter is working at a store in Corona, Queens, on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays from 7 am to 1 pm."**_

His hand was still buried underneath the pillow. His finger's traced the picture of him and Aiden, an effort to calm himself. Eyebrows closely knitted in confusion, his head was beginning to hurt. "But... why? Did he think I was actually dead or something?"

_**"I have no information on his motive, Sir. He has not spoken about that to you."**_

"Not spoken to me about that? He's been..." Tony gave his head a subtle shake. "He's been talking about his job? When was that?"

_**"The first time he mentioned it was on Monday, June 27th, when he had talked about his first day and subsequently on every other day that he had been working."**_

Tony could only blink, trying to take in what FRIDAY was saying.

"How often was he here?"

_**"Every day, boss."**_

His hand stilled and he pulled it out from underneath the pillow. The kid had come to the Compound every day?

"Call him, FRI."

**_"I'm afraid, Peter's shift will not end for another 32 minutes, Sir."_**

Tony groaned. He didn't like this. He didn't like this job at a store thing one bit. With nothing left to do for him for another 32 minutes, he just tried to keep his thoughts away from how slowly the time was passing. Pepper had refused to bring him his phone or at least a tablet and there was no projection tech in this room for FRIDAY to be of help. He'd have to think of something, a workaround. He had shit to do.

_**"Sir, calling Peter Parker now."**_

He huffed out a "finally" and it only took a few seconds for the kid to answer his phone.

"Mr. Stark? Is everything okay? Are you alright?"

"Why are you working in a supermarket?"

"I... what?"

"Why's my personal mini-genius intern working at a supermarket?"

"I, erm... Sir, I... I checked the internship papers and I didn't... I didn't find anything about any restriction for other jobs except for technology and information processing companies that would be in direct or indirect competition with—"

"Pete... stop!" Tony shook his head. His level of confusion had reached an all-time high. "Why di' you go an' look for another job in the first place?" But the kid stayed quiet and that never boded well. "Pete?"

"It's just..." the boy huffed in what almost sounded like annoyance. "It's just my aunt, she was like... It doesn't matter, Sir. It's not—"

"Kid, talk t' me b'fore I have to stalk you."

Peter blew out a deep breath and lowered his voice. He was still on the streets of the city, judging by the background noise. "She didn't like that I was doing the internship when there was no, well, no compensation." Tony had a hard time keeping up with how fast Peter was speaking and it only got worse the longer he talked. "I know, you built me the suit and all and I would never expect anything more than that, but I can't really tell her about the suit nor does it do much as a monetary addition to like the household and things, so as a compromise she agreed that if I wanted to keep the internship I had to find another summer job because it's just. Like... she just wanted me to and I guess it's not fair that with her working all the time—"

"God. Kid. Stop." Tony's head was throbbing. He wasn't sure where even to start with all that information. "Are you tryin' t' tell me you work as like a store clerk now to appease your aunt cause she thinks you're not gettin' paid for the internship?"

"I mean. Yeah... I guess. Yeah."

_Urgh. _What was he ever going to do with that kid? "Why didn't you just come to me and tell me that? It's not an issue, Pete. We can work something out."

"You don't.. you don't have to do that, Sir. I know how ridiculously expensive the suit is and with everything you've already done for me it's—"

"Stop." Fine, Tony had always been a little bit privileged... well, quite privileged, but he had not seen that one coming at all. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I—"

"It's fine, Mr. Stark."

It was not fine. Tony was such an idiot. Of course, his aunt would be miffed about an unpaid internship at a billionaire's company.

"Just don't worry about it, Sir. You just... you just get better and I'll... I'll come by later. If... I mean, if you want me to come by I can or I—"

"Pete. Yes. Come by the Compound. Ge'... get the suit ou' of my office first. Pepper said she—"

The kid's voice was a little high, his speech a little faster again. "I... That's okay. I got the suit with me."

"Oh, you do?" Of course, he did. He'd been to the Compound every day it seemed. Tony's insides cramped at the thought. He still didn't really know what to do with that revelation. "Pepper said she found it in the lab."

"I know, I'm sorry, I wasn't—"

"It's fine, Pete. She doesn'... doesn't know that you've been back here, is... it's fine." On the other end of the line, the kid stayed quiet. That was never a good sign. "I'll see you this afternoon then." Tony bit his lip. He'd be killing for a video feed right about now. "Pete?"

"She fount it when they brought your suit in." His voice was quiet now, whispering into the receiver, careful not to be overheard. "You know I saw your suit, right? In the lab. Your suit and... and the shield."

Tony closed his eyes and swallowed a curse.

"Did you fight him? Was it... did he lure you there? Was he waiting 'til—"

"Pete, no." Tony sighed. "It w's nothing like that."

It was not just that he wasn't ready to talk about what happened, about the implications, the lies. Tony didn't even know if he would ever be ready to talk about that. Definitely not with Peter. And right now, what good would it do? What would be gained if he dragged the kid into the middle of this?

"What was it like then?" His voice was louder now, fiery. The background noise had almost disappeared. The kid must have ducked into an ally or something. "Did you go looking for him on your own? Why did he leave you if you were fighting on the same side?"

"That's enough, Pete. All this doesn't concern you. It's my business. I'll deal with—"

"But, Mr. Stark—"

"Stop! Enough!" His throat burned but at least he had gotten the kid to stop talking. "Alright, lis'n. You remember what our deal was?" The line stayed quiet and Tony took another deep breath. "Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. That's our deal."

"Then why did you fly me all the way to Germany?"

Tony wrapped his hands into his sheets, balled his fists up. "I shouldn't have done that. I was wrong—"

"No, Sir. You needed help and I could help. It made perfect—"

"Peter, it was a mistake." The kid's stubborn attitude was new. And Tony couldn't say that he cared much for it. "I would have never brought you there if I'd known that this kind of a fight would emerge from it. You shouldn't have been there."

"But—"

"Peter, that's enough." Deep breaths. He had to breathe, bring down his pulse, his temper. It wasn't the kid's fault. He knew that. With everything that happened, Peter had no idea what he was even asking. He couldn't know what it would do to Tony to dissect all this with him.

The kid's voice was miserably low, not more than a whisper. "Are you seriously not gonna tell me what happened?"

"Tis of no consequence." The line was silent. For a second, a short fleeting moment he did contemplate the possibility to tell Peter. A cautionary tale that would keep the boy from any dumb moves, but no. It was too much. The kid was 14. This wasn't his fight. "I'll see you later, then."

"Yes, Sir."

Tony closed his eyes, hating this. But this was how it had to be. It was the responsible thing to do.

_**"Boss, the call was disconnected."**_

His hand wandered back underneath the pillow, search for that special something to anchor him. To make him feel like he was doing the right thing.

"Thanks, FRI. I figured as much." He stared up, eyes a little too tired to focus properly on the white wall above him. Then his gaze wandered further down to that small space on the back wall between the top of the wardrobe and ceiling where Peter had been hiding the day before. What else had the kid been up to while Tony had been busy giving his best impression of Sleeping Beauty? "FRI, scan the web for... for mentions of Spider-Man ov'r the las' ten days."

* * *

#

* * *

This was a whole truckload of bull shit. It wasn't fair and it was stupid on top of it. How was he ever supposed to help if he didn't even—

Urgh. He hammered his finger against the number 4 button in the elevator. Fucking bullshit secrecy. His back was pressed against the cold metal wall of the elevator car, arms crossed in front of him. This wasn't the end of this discussion. When he would get to the Compound, he'd make his point properly. He'd look right at Mr. Stark and tell him how illogical it was that - after everything - that he would keep Peter out of the loop on this. What was to be gained by him searching for answers in the dark when he could actually help?

He slammed the door of the apartment shut and flinched when part of the wall vibrated with the force he had used.

"Peter?"

"Yeah..." He screwed up his face, annoyed with his own carelessness. "Sorry. There was a draft."

"Can you come here for a moment?"

He threw his head back and both his hands roughly rubbed across his face. He just wanted to get to his room and mope. He was drained, too little sleep, that monotone job and on top of everything all the confusing emotions of having Mr. Stark back in the first place, mixed with annoyance and, honestly, the hurt that he would shut him out like that. How was he supposed to help if he didn't even know what—

"Peter?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

May sat at the dinner table, eyes locked on her laptop screen. She never really spend a lot of time on it and she didn't look particularly happy. The blue light of the display rather deepened the lines on her face and darkened the rings under her eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep either then and the last few days had been long ones for her.

He stepped a little closer. "Everything okay?"

"I... I'm not..."

May shook her head, then tapped back and forth on the touchpad, eyes still on the screen. Just a couple quick steps and he was next to her. It was the bank's website she was looking at.

"I got an email notification about a transaction. And it was..." She shook her head again, then looked up at him. "Stark Industries just paid us 6720 Dollars."

"Wh-what?" Peter's eyes widened. "That..." He leaned down and had another look at the lines on the bank statement. Between the many red numbers, all the withdraws and payments, there was one line on the very button that ended it a big green number. 6720 Dollars.

She cleared her throat. "At first I thought someone had stolen my credit card details or something because I didn't realize it was a deposit into the account, but... but it is. It's a direct transfer of 6720 Dollars."

He stared at the line, couldn't take his eyes off it.

"Why didn't you tell me that they were gonna pay you at the end of the semester and I mean, we have to call someone about this. This can't be right!"

"I... I don't..." He was stuttering. His brain did manage to realize that, but it wasn't processing this new information at all. What the hell was happening?

"Peter, they must have mixed up your hours with someone else's." She let out a frustrated sigh and his heart ached with how painful it would be to refund this. For both of them.

"I mean. We... I guess..." But this didn't make any sense. Why would someone just wire this to them? He didn't even have a contract that would grant him any wages, why would someone just— His face went slack. Oh... oh no, he didn't...

Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and sure enough, there was a new notification. An email from Stark Industries. An icy, nauseating wave rushed through him as he clicked on it.

_Dear Mr. Parker,_

_Your wages from March 16th to June 30th, 2016 have been deposited into your account._

_You will find your timesheet attached to this notification. Please check for any discrepancies at your earliest convenience._

_Sandra King  
HR Employee Administrations Office_

He opened the attachment and sure enough, it listed his hours from the past few months. The adapted hours. Every Wednesday and Friday with 3 hours each, Saturdays logged with the maximum of 8 hours. A total of 224 hours over 16 weeks.

He was pulled out of his trance by another notification, that popped up on the screen. A text message from Mr. Stark.

_I don't do moonlighting with my intern. _

It wasn't just confusion and nerves that vibrated through him. He pulled the attached timesheet back up. The document wasn't land but there was another number that he had his eyes locked onto now.

30.

$30 per hour.

That's what it said right there in black and white. He was making $8 an hour at the grocery store.

"Let me see this." She reached for the phone in his hand and he quickly pulled his hand away, but it was too late. "Whose... where did you get that phone?"

Heat rushed to his face. "It's, erm... from the... for the internship, if they... they gave me that, in case I—"

She was turning in over in her hands. "They gave a 14-year-old a thousand dollar cell phone?"

Peter swallowed hard. "I... I mean, it's part of the... the thing, the testing out prototype thingy-s and..." He blew out a deep breath.

"What if you lose it and someone sends it to like the tabloids or something? It there a fine on this? We can't—"

"No." He shook his head, hoping he was right. "No, it's nothing. Nothing like that."

She sighed, then scrolled through the document. "This says they pay you $30 per hour."

"Yes, I..." His face was burning. "I know, I saw that. I don't—"

"That... that's it then. Someone just used a wrong template or something. I don't remember anything specific in your contract. I'm going to have to check. We..." May's lips were pressed tight and Peter's heard stung. "I'll call them. Figure this out. We'll... Don't worry about it, honey." She didn't even look at him when she handed him back the phone. "Can you just forward me that. I'm... I'm gonna check on the food. Should be done in about 15 minutes."

"I... yeah... yeah, alright."

She disappeared in the kitchen and Peter didn't really know where to go from there, if he should apologize or tell her he would talk to them himself. He should. This wasn't on May, he... he would deal with this. Today. At the Compound. Or actually. He would just deal with that right now.

He hit the call button on Mr. Stark's number just as he closed the door to his bedroom.

_**"Hello, Peter. I'm afraid, Mr. Stark is currently not available."**_

He groaned. "Are you stuck on that message, FRIDAY? He just sent me a text a few minutes ago."

_**"He has company and is not at liberty to receive any calls right now."**_

"Well, when it's _convenien_t, tell him he's insane. He can't give me that much money. He..." Peter lowered his voice to a whisper. "He already gave me a damn multimillion-dollar suit. Like, this... this is not reasonable and... and..." Peter let himself fall onto his bed, bit his lip and then simply closed his eyes in resignation. "This is not okay. Just... just tell him that this is not okay."

**_"I am happy to transmit your message as soon as Mr. Stark is free to receive it."_**

Peter hung up, eyes on the ceiling above him. Thankfully, May left him alone for a while longer, stewing in his room while either of them came to terms of what had just happened.

6720 Dollars. What was that? Hush money? Was that what was happening? Mr. Stark giving him some money so he would stop asking questions? Reaffirming each one's status in this messed-up relationship? It was insulting. Did he really think that would work? That he could throw some money at Peter and he'd just take it like a good boy and not what... not bother him anymore?

Lunch was a pain. His brain wouldn't shut up and May desperately tried to keep the mood light and cheerful, but Peter's heart was aching and the wheels in his head were spinning. She left him to get to work and he tried not to take his anger out on the dished. All of this was ridiculous. He hated this.

He usually waited another 30 minutes after May left before he left the house, just in case she'd forgotten something, so he went back to his room dropped onto his twin bed, face first, buried in his pillow as he let out a guttural groan. He should be happy. He should be celebrating. Mr. Stark was awake and well-ish, but all he could think about was everything else. The why and how and who. Whatever had happened, he could handle this. He wasn't a kid anymore. These past days when Mr. Stark had been sick, in a coma from his stupid decision to go out there by himself, it had been Peter who had kept an eye out for the city. If he could handle the updated suit, he could—

Oh. His head shot to the side, eyes focused on the laptop that was sitting on his desk. There was another way. If Mr. Stark was refusing to tell him, he already knew where he would find his answers. For the better part of half an hour, he was just lying on his bed, half-heartedly trying to talk himself out of this. This could get him into a lot of trouble. A lot of trouble.

But what could get him into even more trouble was being blind-sighted by whatever fight it was, that Mr. Stark in the middle of. Not just him, but Mr. Stark as well. His mentor was still bedridden. Who knew how long his recovery would take. It could be weeks or months and anything could happen in the meantime. If Peter didn't know what to look out for he—

He just had to. Mr. Stark didn't understand yet that he could handle this. Peter grew with his challenges and he would show him. Show him that he was so much more than just a kid.

Accessing the server still gave him chills. He had stayed clear of all these files like he had promised himself he would but this... these were special circumstances.

The Iron Man folder contained a lot more subfolders than the Spider-Man one did. A lot more. He did a quick search for video files, scanned them for the right time stamp and, well, there they were. Right there. He'd just... he'd just have to click on it and he would know.

He'd just do it. He'd just go for it, just a click and—

And everything was grey. All he could see on the screen was a whole lot of grey.

"What the..." he scooched closer to the laptop and strained his eyes, then moved the cursor a little a bit further down in the timeline.

What was he even looking— Oh. Those were waves. He was, yes, he was looking at the sea flying by underneath. Mr. Stark was flying. Again, he moved the cursor further along until the picture changed and his stomach turned.

There he was, Steve Rogers, looking straight at him.

Right behind him the Winter Soldier, his gun pointing directly at Mr. Stark.

* * *

###

* * *

_(author's note: Happy weekend, folks. I'm rubbish at responding to all your comments, but thank you all so much, I love the feedback. And thanks - as always - for reading.)_


	34. We Just Need A Little Time - Chapter 34

**Chapter 34 - We Just Need A Little Time**

The room was dark when Tony came to. This kept happening to him. He would just close his eyes for a bit and by the time he would wake up, it'd be almost night time. Not that he had anywhere to be. No deadline, no appointment, except... right, the kid.

"FRI, is—"

He stopped as something stirred next to his bed. Peter.

The boy rose to his feet, his movements slow for the little spider's usual demeanor.

"Did I... did I wake you?"

"Nn'..." Tony rubbed a hand over his throat. Not that it did much for him. The breathing tube had left its mark on Tony's throat, it still felt rough. There was also the thick supportive bandage wrapped around his neck. The kind of injuries his neck sustained could not just be fixed with the cradle. They'd have to wait for the swelling around his spine to go down further on its own. That would take time.

A glass of water appeared in his field of vision and he looked up into the face of his intern. The water was cool, soothing the strain in his throat.

"Thanks, kid." He took another sip from the straw. "You didn't wake me."

Peter nodded, still holding onto the glass. The boy's face was tense. Of course, he was still be miffed about the whole argument they had on the phone. Tony had expected that. Though there seemed to be more to it. More emotion than just annoyance. He could usually read the kid like an open book, but something was throwing him off.

"You still mad?"

The kid's jaw was moving like he was trying to bite his tongue but then decided not to. "You wired 6720 Dollars into my aunt's bank account."

Oh. That. "I did."

The kid's mouth worked soundlessly before he swallowed hard. "You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's crazy!" He slammed the water glass back on the table next to Tony's bed. His movements were a little more forceful than was strictly necessary. The glass rattled and swayed, but Peter was fast enough to keep it from spilling. "You can't just give me a bunch of money and think I will shut up about all of this."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Hm. Your tone sure 's changed."

"Mr. Stark you paid me twice what my aunt makes per hour. Do you not know how this looks?"

Tony frowned. "Like... like 'm happy with your work?"

"You need to send a correction." The boy had his arms crossed in front of him, but his eyes kept drifting away from Tony. "Take it back!"

His throat still hurt and when he cleared it, he was careful not to let that show on his face. Instead, he tried to move up a little in the bed, get into a somewhat more upright position. "That's ridic'lous. You worked more hours th'n I could even put... put on that timesheet." Peter groaned and turned away from him. "Wait. You' aunt earns 15 dollars an hour?" He tried to press himself up on his elbows at least. This whole thing where he was lying down, having to take the kid raging at him did not sit all that well with him.

Peter's hands were balled up in fists as he started pacing. "It's more when it's the weekend or... or night shifts. She... she's doing her best, there's just no— Stop that, Mr. Stark. You'll hurt yourself."

The kid rushed forward and got a hold of Tony's upper arm. Like his weight was nothing, the boy stabilized him enough elevate the headrest and then prop up Tony's pillows behind his back before he let go of his arm.

"Pete..." Tony wanted to reach for him, but losing balance and possibly landing on his face next to the bed seemed like a bad idea. "It's not your aunt's fault that her employer 's an ass who doesn't pay her prop'rly."

"It's..." the boy shook his head. "It's not like that. He has a lot of people who work there and with the hotel being open 24 hours they have to make—"

"Okay, no. Stop. That's... that's not..." He wasn't going to get into a lesson on economics with the kid. "Pete, jus' take the damn money. If your aunt makes $15 an hour, 'ou both need it."

"We don't need your charity. I don't want it, okay? You can't bribe me to shut me up!"

Tony's jaw dropped and there was a coldness spreading through his veins at Peter's voice. He tried to keep his own temper low, not to give in to the frustration this all riled up in him. The kid was properly agitated, angry to a level that was new. Well, not entirely new, but scarcely presented itself. Not since that one day in the lab a few months ago. "Jus' breathe, Pete, a'right? It's no'... not charity. You worked hard. Long hours. More th'n I eve' ask' of 'ou." His speech was beginning to slur again and he tried to concentrate. Something was up.

"I didn't do that for the money. It was never about money! I just... I couldn't even..." The kid turned his back to him, kept more and more distance between them.

"Breathe, Pete." He might have to remind himself of that as well. If the kid had an episode now, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even get out of bed to help him through it, hold him. "Just breathe. It's a paid internsh'p. You work f' me. It's not controversial."

"You already paid me. You made the suit for me. It's... this is too much." The boy was still pacing, not even looking at Tony. "You can't just do stuff like that. You can't just go ahead and do whatever you want without telling me. Without considering the consequence. That's not fair. I have to deal with whatever you decide to as well. What am I supposed to do if you don't even tell me—if I don't know what's coming? It's not fair."

Tony's lungs were burning, but he was still trying for breaths as deep and calm as he could manage. "Are we still talkin' about th' money?"

The kid had his back turned to Tony. His arms were wrapped around his torso like he was holding himself together.

"Pete, I need 'ou t' take a breath an... and ge' a grip on your temper. If you lose control of you... your senses now, I can't—"

"I'm fine." He turned and faced Tony, his eyes burning. "Stop making this about me. This is not about me!"

Tony gnawed on his lip, genuinely trying to suppress his own temper now. "List'n, if you want t' pick a fight, we can fight." Peter didn't budge. He was halfway across the room, but his shoulders were tensely pulled back, head still held high. He didn't back down even an inch. Tony tried to focus, to bundle his strength. "We can start with your stunt a' the Bank 'f America Financial Center."

The boy's face did fall at that and his arms fell along with his face, swung loosely by his side, his feet stuck in place, not moving at all now.

"Go' anything t' say for yourself?"

A shallow shade of pink was slowly creeping up from the kid's beck. His voice a lot lower now, quietly pleading. "It's... Mr. Stark, it's not what you think. I made sure—"

"It's not wha' I think? Really? So, when I asked you if... if you'd been stupid enough t' go out there befo'... before I checked the suit an' you said no, you weren't lying?"

Tony's hands twisted around the sheet's fabric, fighting his frustrations hard not to overtake his emotions. The kid wasn't even listening. He was just staring at the ground. "Peter!"

His eyes shot up at Tony, round and wide. "I'm sorry, I—" He blinked a couple of time, then he stepped forward and bend down, reaching for—

Tony's breath caught in his throat as Peter picked up the picture that had fallen to the floor. One hand instinctively reached underneath his pillow, but— nothing. The kid had propped it up so Tony could sit a little more upright.

"Give me that!" He bit out, surprising himself with the decent amount of panic that had slipped into his voice.

Peter twitched at the tone of his voice then quickly stepped closer. Tony snatched it from his hand, carefully wiped the dust off it before he clutched it close. The sudden silence in the room was overwhelming. All Tony could hear was the erratic pulse of his own heart. He couldn't bring himself to look up, eyes glued to the sheets on his bed. The photo was sturdy in his hand, having never been taken out of the frame until just the day before. His eyes fell shut for just s second. This was ridiculous. He was completely overreacting. This... this wasn't a big deal. It was fine. There was nothing to freak out about. Aiden wasn't a dirty little secret. There was nothing wrong with Tony having a picture of his son on him.

He took a couple of deep breaths, eyes still cast down to where his hand covered most of the picture, pressed it against his chest. There was still a part of him that tried to keep Aiden to himself, not just because of the loss and the pain, but because he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he had to hold onto every single detail, hold every memory of his son close to his heart. That if he wouldn't, he might lose it all.

Irrational. Emotional. Broken. He'd been stuck in this state for years and if he was honest with himself he had never even had the desire to let any of it go. Even now, just the thought of the hole that letting go of that pain and heartache would leave him with, formed a knot in his stomach that made his blood run cold. The kid had retreated a few steps, his eyes wide and straight on Tony at first but he quickly turned his eyes down when Tony shot a glance in his direction.

"Sorry, kid, erm..." Tony cleared his throat. It wasn't that he didn't trust the kid. Of course he did. Over the last few months, Peter had proven his loyalties, sometimes more insistently than Tony was really okay with. But this was different. It was personal. This might open the door to something he wasn't really ready for.

"That's... that's my son."

Peter had stopped his fidgeting. He stood pretty motionless, still in about the same spot where the picture had fallen, his voice just as low as Tony's. "I... I didn't know that you have a son, Sir."

"It's..." His tongue felt heavy. The words just didn't really want to come out. He looked up at the kid. "It's complicated."

The boy's innocence was painted on his face, shining clear and bright like a giant neon sign. The question of what had happened so plainly radiating from him, the reluctance to ask written in his eyes.

"Not... not that complicated actually." Tony sighed, his lungs deflating. "He... he's gone. He got taken, when he was very young."

"Oh, that's..." Peter's eyebrows were knitted closely together, fingers silently picking at each other. "I'm... I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark."

Tony gave a short nod, his teeth biting his lower lip. "It was a long time ago." He hesitated for a moment, the picture still closely pressed to his chest, painfully aware how Peter's eyes wander down to it again and again before the boy caught himself and looked somewhere else. A sudden impulse had him stretch out his arm and he held out the picture for Peter so take. The kid only stared at his hand at first. Then as he realized, what was happening, he stepped closer to the bed again and carefully took the photograph. His head was bent down, hair falling into his face, hiding his eyes from Tony.

"You... you look really young in this," the kid said, eyes still on the picture.

Tony couldn't help but huff in a low chuckle. There was a faint red flush creeping into the boy's cheeks as he looked up.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, that sounded awful. I didn't mean that you look old now. I mean, older, but like not like crazy old, I—"

The cold dread in his chest ebbed away, replaced by a surge of warm affection for that hopelessly babbling kid in front of him. "It's fine, Pete." The smile on his face softened a bit. "It's been some years since this was taken."

The kid shot him an apologetic grimace then turned his eyes back to the picture.

It had been a long time. More than 13 years. Aiden would be 13 now. Not all that much younger than Peter was actually. Of course, if anyone would bother to really see the kid they'd notice that the Spiderling actually looked younger than he was. Before the spider bite, he must have seemed completely out of place among his peers. Now, at a casual glance he didn't look like a kid all that much, not even in those baggy shirts he wore to the lab. His abs and shoulders, the ridiculous muscle mass on his arm and legs, all that might fool people especially when he was jumping around in the suit. Made them think what they saw was a young adult. It sure had fooled Tony at first. The strength, the speed, the control he had over his body made it seem like he was older, but underneath that mask... the soft, curved lines of his face, the giddy energy, and that innocent puppy dog look in his eyes told a different story. He was still just a young boy. A young boy who'd already been through a lot.

Tony never really thought of Aiden as a teenager. How could he? When he closed his eyes and thought of his son he saw the round face of a 2-year-old toddler. The cheeky grin, little stubby legs. Those tiny toes when he would waddle across the carpet. To think of him as a teenager... His boy growing into an adult... That just underlined the one thing Tony didn't want to face. All the years, all the time he had missed.

It beat the alternative of course. To think that Aiden might have never even gotten the chance to grow up at all, even without Tony. No, it was so much more bearable to keep the kid in his heart like he had known and loved him. Not to imagine what might have been, what could be. If there was one thing Tony had learned over the years, it was how little control he had over that anyway.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Peter held out the photograph for him to take back. "I'm really sorry, Sir. I... I don't really know—"

"You don't have to say anything, Pete." He carefully tucked the picture underneath the sheets on the far side of the bed, desperate to change the subject. "Tell me what happened at that bank?"

The kid grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, nervously scratching his head. "I was... It was an accident. I didn't... It's not like I went out looking for something like that." His eyes were pleading, desperate for Tony to believe him. "I really wasn't, Sir. I was trying to stick to like... the small things, nothing flashy. Just... just trying to win back people's trust, like you said."

"Right." Tony pursed his lips. "Just like I said."

The kid's cheeks turned a faint red color. "I mean, you... you did say that. When we were—"

"I remember, kid." Careful to make clear, that _that_ wasn't the part he was objecting to. "Go on."

"It was just one guy and I thought it wouldn't be a problem at all, but... well, it had seemed like it was just one guy. But it wasn't. There were six other guys waiting in the bank."

Tony's breath caught in his throat at the mental images his brain conjured up of the kid trying to fight off 7 grown men at once.

"It was fine." Peter spread out his arms, stopping him from interrupting. "The robbers weren't all that difficult to take out, but the NYPD showed up faster than I thought and then the chief shot at me but the suit it—"

"He what?" Tony's throat burned from the sudden outburst and he curled in on himself as a fit of coughs rolled over him.

"Mr. Stark!" The kid stepped closer, one hand on Tony's back, the other one bracing him by the shoulder so he wouldn't keel over. "Nothing happened, Sir. The bullet just brushed my foot but the suit absorbed the friction. It was not a big deal."

"They sho' at you?" His voice was weak, still recovering from the cough triggered down deep in his throat.

"Just... just the one guy. The chief guy." Peter's hand rubbed soothing circles into Tony's back and Tony was vaguely aware that he didn't like this dynamic where the kid was worried about him. Taking care of _him_. "He was a little hostile, but I got out there fast."

The chief guy... fucking Clarke. One day Tony was gonna punch that asshole in the face. Peter held up the glass of water for him. The cool liquid did help with his agitated throat.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I... I promise I checked the suit with FRIDAY. I didn't just ignore what you said, I promise."

Tony pushed the glass away, tried to get a grip of his voice. "You wan'ed to get back out there, I... I ge' that. But I asked you... Kid, I asked you if you'd been going on patrol."

"I... I'm sorry. I am. Mr. Stark please, I just... I just panicked and I didn't want you to get mad. You'd just woken up and I didn't—"

"Stop, it's..." Tony took a couple of deep breaths, shook his head at the boy's excuses. "I don't like this." He shot a sharp glance up in the kid's direction to make that clear. "Don't like it one bit but... I guess it is wha' it is. Jus'... just don't do something stupid like this again. I can't... can't have you lying to me, sneaking around behind my back. We all screw up, bu' you have to trust me, alright?" He reached for the boy's wrist and was taken aback as Peter looked up at him, his eyes deep dark pools of regret and embarrassment. He looked like he was about to cry. "Hey... buddy, come on..." A small tug on his arm was enough and Peter sat down on the bed and carefully settled his arms around him, his head on Tony's shoulder. His face was turned away, impossible for Tony to read. The kid simply held onto him. He was so close, Tony would actually hear how fast his heart was racing. "It's... It is what it is. You're forgiven, alright. I just... I need you to be careful."

Peter gave a few small nods and sniffed in a couple of breaths. Tony ruffled a hand through the kid's hair and silently thanked the universe and just in case any deity that might be listening after all, that the boy was unharmed and safe. This could have been bad, but Peter was fast and strong and clever. Tony would be happy to thank his lucky stars for that and beg them to keep it like that as often as they were willing to listen. The kid still held onto him and Tony took a deep breath, resting his cheek on the top of the boy's head. This could have been a lot worse. The thought struck him that in his arrogance Tony could have actually taken the kid with him to Siberia. It wasn't the first time that this horror scenario popped up in his head. The more he thought about it the sicker he felt just imagining the hypothetical what-if the Spiderling had been in the bunker with him.

They wouldn't have made it out alive. Peter at best. But Tony would have torn Barnes apart, as well as Rogers if they had even tried to put a finger on the boy and in return, Tony would have likely suffered even worse at their hands for it.

Tony tried to get his pulse under control, refused to let his body react with the shudder that was brewing underneath his skin. He couldn't dwell on this. It didn't happen and he sure wouldn't let them anywhere near the kid. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Stark Industries intern. That was it until the kid had done some turning 21. Peter's arms were still slung tightly around him. He still seemed upset, so Tony allowed himself to keep the kid in his arms a little longer, held him close like he could protect him from all this craziness. He couldn't. He was sensible enough to know that. He couldn't even keep his own kid safe and that was before super soldiers and aliens had become part of his life. But he could at least try his best.

"There's a condition fo' the forgive 'n forget though." The kid went rigid in his arms. "You ditch tha' shop boy thing an' you're gonna keep the money, alright?"

At that, Peter pulled away at last, still balanced on the edge of the bed. "But... but Sir, it's..."

"This's not up fo' debate."

The kid looked down to his knees, gnawing on his lower lip. "You're not gonna shut me up by giving me money."

"It's not a bribe," Tony sighed. "There're a few zeros missin' for it te be a bribe, kid."

Peter pulled a face, his eyes unfocused, looking for something to counter with.

"Don't argue with me. I nee' peace and quiet." He had his eyebrows raised, lips pulled to the side in a smirk but the line didn't really land. Peter just stared down, fists clutching onto the edge of the bed. Tony frowned. "Kid, if you need to—"

"Fine. Okay." The kid's face was still drawn in a weird mixture of shame and sorrow.

"You know... the gen'ral consens's is that earning good money is a good thing."

Eyes still turned away from him, Peter nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Stark," he whispered.

Something was up. This wasn't like Peter. He might blush and radiate some teenage awkwardness but depressive almost shameful demure wasn't like him. A lot had happened in the past weeks. It was a lot to process and Peter didn't really have anyone to talk about all this, so maybe... maybe he just needed time. Tony was back now and he'd get this sorted. All they needed was a little time.

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##

* * *

The vague shadows of houses and trees were racing by outside of the car's window. It was dark and while his night vision was pretty excellent he still couldn't really concentrate on anything out there in particular. He felt like shit. Like an idiot. This had been such a fucking dumb idea. He should have just minded his own damn business, but no. He just had to know. He just had to betray every ounce of trust Mr. Stark had put in him.

It hadn't just been a mission. It was personal. Deeply, deeply personal. Peter had thought about it, just coming clean. If he'd just told him right there, Mr. Stark would have been mad. He would have been really, really mad but maybe... maybe if he had confessed...

Roger's face popped up in front of his mental eye. The bald-faced lie on his lips. The lie he had told right to Mr. Stark's face. The betrayal in Mr. Stark's voice.

Peter really had been meaning to confess at first, to tell Mr. Stark what he'd done. There had been a chance that Mr. Stark would forgive him, eventually, if he had just come out and told him. But as he had sat in that room, his back leaned again the hospital bed, he lost his nerve. It wasn't just that he was scared of Mr. Stark's reaction. It was more than that. He'd betrayed his trust. Much like his team had and Peter just couldn't pile on. The man had been through so much, had lost so much. More than Peter had even been aware of as he had found out today.

When he was back at the apartment, Peter had kind of forgotten about his patrol. Instead, he had googled Aiden Stark. There had been quite a bit of information, but most of it dated back years and Peter soon found out that most of it were embellished tales retold in tabloid after tabloid. He had spent a couple of hours on a Tony Stark fan forum reading a few threads were people had exchanged all kinds of theories on what had happened. He had a hard time telling what was gossip and what were actual facts but soon realized that actual facts were hard to come by. There was hardly anything, except for a couple of news articles from 2003 where the press seemed to have picked up on Mr. Stark having a son at all. There were no pictured except for the ones attached to the articles writing about Aiden's disappearance. Two pictures of a two-year-old toddler so the public could keep an eye out for the boy. The same two pictures were used again and again in other stories detailing Mr. Stark and Miss Potts' search that took them all over the globe. One of those had a picture of Mr. Stark next to it, taken somewhere in South America. Maybe people who didn't know him wouldn't be able to tell but Peter could see the pain written across the man's face all too plainly.

It made his stomach turn and he cursed himself out, closing all the different tabs he had opened in his search. This was private. He was being nosy and that wasn't okay. But as he shut the laptop and lay on his bed in the dark he couldn't help but let his thoughts drift back to Mr. Stark. To all the things that had happened to him, had scared him. It made a little more sense now why he tried to keep Peter away from the thick of the action, even if the man was taking it too far. Peter was not a little boy. He was Spider-Man after all.

He had made up his mind that night though. There would be no way Peter could tell his mentor about what he had done. Ever. Peter would have to live with the guilt. A confession wouldn't absolve him. It would do nothing but hurt Mr. Stark and he couldn't do that. Not now.

Mr. Stark would never find out, Peter would make sure of it.

As the days went by it did seem like it would be easier to keep this secret than Peter had thought. Things still were a little rocky at first. He would travel out to the Compound on his regular lab days and also whenever May would work during the day. Late afternoons and evenings were for Spider-Man patrols. He had gotten May's blessing to drop the summer job at the store and after she had talked to about 4 different departments to make sure that they wouldn't owe Stark Industries any refund on his paycheck and that the hourly rate was approved for the kind of projects Peter helped out with, she let it go.

They both knew that the money would help a great deal but it wasn't hard to pick up the underlying irk that May harbored about what Peter's wage said about her own earnings. Originally, Peter had thought that with this all sorted out, May might warm a bit more to Mr. Stark. That it would make her not just tolerate but embrace the amount of time Peter would spend at the internship. That wasn't really the case though, hence he stuck to additional hours only when May was at work, or when he could use meeting his friends as a convenient excuse. He rarely used the latter though, just in case Ned or anyone from the decathlon team would bust his alibi.

The first couple of weeks Peter traveled out to the Compound, he still tried his best not to run into anyone. While Mr. Stark was still recovering in the medical wing his presence would have been highly suspicious and while Mr. Stark didn't necessarily seem to stress it, Peter had already decided on that strategy himself. He couldn't risk having to explain himself. Miss Potts went back to LA after about a week. That had definitely been helpful. After another week, Mr. Stark had been well enough - or stubborn enough, Peter hadn't really made his mind up about that - to move back to the Tower. That made things a little easier.

The minute Mr. Stark was back in the lab, he started working on leg braces for Colonel Rhodes and Peter was grateful for a complex project like that to take his mind off of things. It brought back some routine between the two of them. In the hours they spend leisurely working next to each other he almost felt normal again. Like they hadn't gone through this big dramatic event. Mr. Stark tried to talk to him about Germany a few times, probed for any lasting anxiety and trauma that Peter might have been left with. He would usually start by telling Peter about Colonel Rhodes' physical therapy and then pivot.

The thing was, Germany was not what was weighing on Peter's heart. Yes, it had been quite the fight and everything that came from it was hard to stomach, but nothing could measure up to the cold dread he felt every time the image of Captain America's shield popped into his head. It was hard to avoid as well. Talk about the Rogues was still ongoing. Articles upon articles, memes, and gifs, they were difficult to escape and every time that Vibranium shield smashing into Mr. Stark's helmet flashed in front of his eyes, how it had caved in his mentor's chest.

Peter would get over it. It just... it would take some time but he'd just bleach all that from his brain. They were gone. They were irrelevant. At least that was he was telling himself. A lie that was harder and harder to stick to.

As much as he wanted to just slip back into his routine, things had changed and his perspective on some stuff had simply shifted. Every time he went out on patrol, he found himself missing some of those features he had so gotten used to in the week before Mr. Stark had woken from his coma. The web grenade and rapid-fire. He also kind of missed Karen. It was nice to have someone to talk to while he was on patrol and she was really cool and helpful and it made things so much easier and safer when he had her assistance. Not even Mr. Stark would be able to argue against that. He wanted Peter to stay safe and Karen definitely helped him to stay safer.

Eight days he managed to resist, then he got lost following a burglar into an underground maze of basements. It took him almost an hour of dragging the guy around till he found an open door to get back overground without having to bust out any windows or locked doors. It was ridiculous. Karen would have had him out of there in minutes. He promised himself, he'd only use it when he really needed it. He'd only use that one file. It would be fine.

It would be fine!

A few lines of code was all he needed and he had implemented direct access to the ghost drive on his phone. He would turn off the training wheels in emergencies. Just when he really needed it. It turned out... well, it turned out, he needed it a lot.

Just a couple of taps on his phone and Karen with answers to questions he didn't even know to ask, was right there to help. It had to be that easy to access otherwise what good was it in an emergency. But now that he had opened that gate once more, it became harder and harder to resist the temptations to see what else what on that server. He had maneuvered himself into the most predictable tight spot imaginable.

It took another two weeks. He was at the Tower for his regular Wednesday lab day. It was not even lunchtime yet, they had just barely begun to work on the project for the day.

**_"Boss, there is an urgent call from Secretary Ross."_**

Mr. Stark froze. His eyes shot up to the ceiling, then to Peter.

"Kitchen. Go on. Stay quiet!"

Peter knew better than to argue. Secretary Ross was a sore spot with Mr. Stark. He hated him and Peter couldn't really blame him. Ross and his Accord policies had been a major factor in all of this Avengers mess.

"Open the line, FRI."

Peter had his back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, all he could see were the flickering lights of the video call. He could hear just fine though and Mr. Stark would have to know that. A couple of months ago, it would have flattered him immensely, that Mr. Stark was fine with Peter overhearing that conversation. Now though, there was always that silent betrayal in the back of his head, a little voice reminding him how he had broken his mentor's trust. How he had gone behind his back and just taken what he had no right to take.

"You have to get to the Raft, Stark. ASAP!"

Mr. Stark cleared his throat, his tone tense. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. Secretary?"

"We've lost contact. Rogers showed up!" Ross was agitated, if not even panicked. "The Rogues! They are gone."

His arms tightened around Peter's torso. They had escaped? His throat felt dry, his heartbeat spiked, but he couldn't freak out. He had to stay calm.

"What do you want me to do there, Ross? Look at your empty cells?"

The man's voice hadn't changed. It was tense but low and still quite calm. Peter's legs twitched. He had to stop himself from trying to sneak a peek at Mr. Stark's reaction.

"This is an emergency."

"This _was_ an emergency. Me flying out to somewhere in the pacific isn't gonna magically bring them back."

"Stark, you can't refuse me. You signed the Accords, don't forget that."

"I did."

"This is a code B2!"

"Is it? You have the UN council's decision for me to intervene?"

Peter's hands grabbed the edge of the kitchen's countertop, physically restraining himself from intervening himself.

"It's... this is US business. I'm the Secretary of State and I order you to—"

"You have no authority to order me anywhere, Mr. Secretary. Only the United Nations' council does."

"Stark, I'm warning you! You can't just ignore my—"

"Get confirmation from the council, Ross. Don't bother me again until you do. FRI."

The light that had flickered in all the way to the kitchenette was turned off abruptly. Peter pushed himself away from the counter and carefully glanced around the corner in Mr. Stark's direction. The video stream was gone and Peter didn't hesitate to walk back out into the lab.

"Mr. Stark, are you really not gonna go?"

The man was quiet for a moment, eyes on the project that had been left untouched in front of him. It would be a lie for Peter to pretend that he wasn't somewhat relieved that is mentor hadn't gone out there on a whim. He wasn't even 100% healed.

"There's no point, Pete. They are gone."

"But... but shouldn't we at least—"

"_WE _will do absolutely nothing. I, however, will monitor this and have FRIDAY update me on the developments."

Mr. Stark didn't even give Peter the courtesy to look at him as he was lecturing him and it was starting to really nag Peter.

"Kid..." Peter flinched and tried to keep his face a little more neutral as he looked up at his mentor. "I don't want to have to remind you of our deal."

Peter made an effort not to have his hands ball into fists, to keep his body somewhat relaxed. "Yes, Sir."

Of course he didn't. Mr. Stark wanted to keep him as far away from them as possible. He wanted to handle all of this on his own when it had worked out so well the last time. Peter couldn't quite meet his eyes, his teeth worried as his lip as he strongly tried to keep the frustration out of his face. Mr. Stark could read him like an open book. He had proven that many times before and Peter was not in the mood for another of those lectures.

"Flat mirco cable needs to be soldered on right here." Mr. Stark pointed at the open wiring they had been working on just before Ross had phoned in. "You up for it?"

Peter nodded. He wasn't fooled. Mr. Stark was trying to change the subject, to distract him, but that wouldn't work. Peter would find his own way to stay up to date on all these developments. He wouldn't just stand by and do nothing. He was Spider-Man after all.

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_[author's note: I know, I left you waiting quite a bit. And while there have been longer gaps in my update schedule, I am sorry about that! I had a couple of story arc stuff to fix, but things are looking good for faster updates in the future ;)_

_Hope you enjoyed reading the new chapter. Thank you all so much for the lovely comments and favoriting the story!]_


	35. A Wanna-Be Hero - Chapter 35

**Chapter 35 - A Wanna-Be Hero**

The sun was starting to set in New York City. It had been a good day for Tony. Helen's therapy was more effective than anything he had ever experienced. It had only been 4 weeks since Siberia and he had already regained full mobility in his arms and shoulders. He still got a little winded because of the limited lung capacity. The general discomfort around his sternum was something he had gotten used to a long time ago. The doctors had completely reconstructed it when he had the arc taken out of his body. It had been painful then and the process this time had been similar. The cradle sure had proven helpful, superficial scar tissue on his chest was basically non-existent. Compared to the Jackson Pollock his chest had mimicked before, the area looked like it had never even seen a scalpel let alone an arc reactor housing unit. Or a vibranium shield. The cradle could only handle tissue though. That meant, the fusion of his own ribs and the artificial sternum Helen had woven into his chest took a little more patience, but they were getting there.

His last 4 hours had been spent on a video conference call with Pepper, a couple of board members and two project managers from the R&D labs in LA. It had been the first time in months that he had talked to Pepper in a work setting, without wanting to rip his hair or heart out. Not counting the week right after he woke up from the incident in Siberia, of course. That didn't really count. He was sick, so she had gone easy on him. Sure, the call had been all work, but it was progress. It was the kind of relationship that they were meant to have. A friendly partnership between CEO and company owner. A friendship. Maybe again at some point.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sank into the cushions on the couch in his living room. How was it only Monday? That whole day had felt like a week. His chest was aching and there was a numbness in his fingers. A new - well old, but newly acquired - engine block was waiting to be put back together in the workshop. Something to tinker with just to clear his mind. It was only 8:30 pm after all. Against his better judgment, he took out his phone and pulled up the app he had implemented a couple of weeks prior.

FRIDAY had been analyzing the Rogues' movements for him based on diverse data input from mentions on social media all the way to the low-level trackers that were still active on the Quinjet as well as some of Romanoff's and Rogers' equipment. The signal of the trackers was low. It was only meant to be picked up locally if they had to find one of them or even just the equipment during a fight when all other lines of communication would fail. It meant the data he received from the trackers was often corrupted and couldn't be pinned down precisely, but that also meant that Natasha hadn't picked up on the outgoing signal yet. It gave him a general idea of where they were at, or at least let him guess the general location of some of them. With the additional surveillance and social media pointers, there was one thing he could tell: they had been in North America for a few days now and just crossed the border from Canada into the USA that weekend. Tony bit his lip to stop himself from cursing out loud.

Fucking Rogers was getting closer and closer. Why could the idiot not just stay away?

It wasn't likely that they would show up in New York. Tony wouldn't put anything past Rogers but the crew was mostly out of funds. Most of them lost their equipment in the arrest in Germany. Hawkeye was of little use empty-handed and the Falcon probably hadn't grown wings in the Raft. They would need to remedy that situation before they could operate in any basic capacity. That was the only reason they would be in the states in the first place. The equipment was stored in a hangar somewhere outside of Washington D.C. operated by the government, but there was nothing Tony could do about deterring them. If he would tip off Ross then he'd basically admit that he had the technology to track the Rogues down. Ross was an asshole but not that much of an idiot that Tony could sell him a coincidental discovery of the gang. All that would do was make the asshole get approval from the UN council so he could force Tony to engage the Rogues and Tony wouldn't be able to deal with that. He couldn't face them. Not yet. What were you supposed to do if you had to look into the face of the guy who had lied about your parents' murder? The man who had protected their murderer. Who had almost killed him. Tony might never be ready for that but he sure wasn't now.

_**"Boss, sensor group SW04 is on alert. Code S007."**_

He frowned. "The kid?"

_**"Yes, Sir."**_

Quickly Tony jumped up from and walked towards the balcony, beer left disregarded on the table in front of him.

"He hurt?"

_**"The sensors on Spider-Man's suit indicate no damage or any kind of close body contact with an adversary in the last 48 hours."**_

FRIDAY opened the door for him to walk out onto the balcony. The Spiderling swung himself over the balustrade just as Tony stepped outside.

Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest, shielding his body. The wind was warm on that August evening but up on the 68th floor, it was still strong enough to bite uncomfortably through his clothes.

"Hey kid, you alright?"

With a quick motion, Peter pulled off his mask and gave something between a nod and a shake of his head. Like he couldn't really decide on how to answer that question. He didn't look injured, which was definitely in the plus column, but he didn't usually drop by in full gear like this.

"Remember what we talked about? About not crawling up the side of my Tower? I have a nice elevator and you have an access card for it."

"I... Mr. Stark, I..." The boy didn't even seem to listen, his breathing shallow, voice low. Well, climbing 68 floors would do that to anyone, right? The boy couldn't keep his feet still, attention not really on Tony as the boy's eyes shifting over the Manhattan skyline. "Are you alright, Sir?"

"Me?" Tony frowned. "I'm... of course. Pete, what happened?"

He wasn't meeting Tony's eyes and both his hands were clutching the mask, wringing the fabric. "Nothing. Nothing happened. I just..."

"Hey, kid." Tony stepped up to him and clasped him by the arm, pulling the boy's attention away from the early evening sky. "Why shouldn't I be okay?"

Peter's eyes were wide, his face pale and sweaty. "I... it's not... I don't know. I don't know, I just... I had to— You're up here on your own. I... I wanted to call, but I didn't. I wasn't sure if—"

"Just breathe, buddy. Come on." Tony kept his hand on Peter's arm and quickly lead him inside. The kid hardly ever stammered in his presence anymore. The last time he had climbed the Tower had been the day of the incident in Nigeria. Obviously, something was up, but Peter was notorious about needing additional motivation to spill the beans, at least when it came to the important things. There was always a certain restless energy coming from the kid. He was young and hyper and the Spider-senses probably didn't help with that. This was different though. There was something different about his vibe.

"Just take a breath and tell me what happened."

"Nothing... nothing happened." Tony dragged him all the way to the kitchen counter and pressed a bottle of water in his hand but the kid's attention didn't really seem to be in the room. "Something... something is going on."

"Is it your senses? Did something trigger you?" Tony couldn't see that blank-eyed panic in Peter, the lack of control that had so far been the prime indicators to him losing the grip of his senses. He was flushed and agitated but he was still in control. It was something like... like fear, not stress that radiated off him. "Kid, what do you mean, something is going on? Did you see something in the city?"

"No, it's... I..." The kid's cheeks were flushed and he still refused to meet Tony's eyes. "I—I can... I can just tell."

Tony reached out to get a hold of him, to pull him out of whatever was messing with his mind. "Pete, nothing is—"

**_"Boss, there is a call waiting for you."_**

"Not now, FRI. Just take a message, I'm—"

_**"It's a code B2 from Ross, Sir." **_

Tony blew out a curse. "I need to take this, kid. Just... Just go hide in your room for now. Try to calm down, alright? I don't want Ross to see you here."

"But, Sir—" Peter started forward

"Go on, kid!"

"No, please. Just let me—"

"Now, Pete!" He pointed down the corridor towards the door. The kid's face turned red, all shyness and confusion seemed forgotten as he took off with a huff, arms crossed and then slammed the door behind him. Tony couldn't get into this now though, he'd have to deal with Ross first. "Put him through, FRI."

The man's face popped up as a projection in front of him.

"Yes?" Tony did his best to keep the frustration out of his voice. There was no point in agitating the man.

"Stark, we need you in D.C. Get in that suit. Now!"

"What's going on?" Oh, for fuck's sake. Of all the days for Ross to actually pay attention, Tony could only hope that this was not what—

"The Rogues are here. Been sighted breaking into a military building just outside the city."

Tony bit the insides of his cheek to stop the groan that was building up in his very soul. Fucking Rogers. "I see."

"Get your ass here now, Stark!"

"Right away, Mr. Secretary," he bit out and waved the projection away.

Just as he had hung up on Ross the door to Peter's room flew open and the kid rushed back into the living room.

"Didn't I tell you to stay in there?" Tony snarled at him. It wasn't fair that the boy would have to deal with his frustration instead of Ross, but then what was ever fair?

"I'll come with you, Sir!"

"To D.C:? What, was there a radioactive bird bite or something you didn't tell me about?"

Peter's mouth slammed shut and he gritted his teeth. "I can... I can just hold onto you."

"Ha, the hell you will." Tony shook his head in irritation and made towards the kitchen island, his beer from earlier still disregarded on the living room table. Well, that was that for his quiet workshop night.

Peter followed on his heels. "I can. I will! You can't go after them alone."

"Not planning to," he muttered.

"I promise, I'll be careful. I'll listen to whatever you say but you can't—"

Tony turned towards him and made the kid stop in his tracks. "You want to show up in D.C. out in the open going after the other Avengers? You know how much trouble I went through to make sure that not a single spark of evidence of you fighting with us in Germany could be leaked to the public?"

"But..." The kid's hands were balled up into fists, his back straight with determination. "But I can help! I don't care if anyone sees me helping you!"

"Well, I care!" Tony tried to keep a lid on his tone, not to get angry at the defiance in the boy. "I've kept the committee and the Accords away from you for a reason, Pete. I can't do that if you're seen going against the others."

There was no way in hell he would allow the kid to get twisted up in this mess any more than he already was. It had been foolish to fly him to Leipzig in the first place. Fucking insane. He was just a kid, superpowers or not. Tony pocketed a few power bars from one of the kitchen drawers. This would be a long night.

"Sir, please! I can help you. Please, just let me help you! You don't have to—"

"No, Peter! You will not." He rounded on the boy, stepped closer to him than was technically necessary. "You will stay away from them, you hear me? If they show up anywhere near you, you will fucking run in the other direction as discretely and fast as possible. Are we clear?"

"But, Mr. Stark—"

"Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, that's our deal!"

The boy had taken a step back from him but his eyes turned soft and big with what looked a lot like fear. "You can't go alone, Sir. Please, please you can't—"

Tony couldn't help but shudder at the panic in Peter's face. "They'll be gone by the time I even get there, alright?" He sighed and put a hand on the kid's shoulder, an attempt to defuse the situation, to calm the kid's nerves as much as his own if he was going to be honest about it, which he certainly wasn't planning to be. "Rogers is many things but he's not stupid enough to stick around long enough after Ross already got wind of him being in the country."

That wasn't even a lie, plus Tony would make sure to stall his own arrival. Even if the Rogues were thick enough to stick around for longer than anticipated, they should be gone by the time Tony would get there. He had absolutely no interest to have footage of him fighting the Rogues circulate on the internet and the news networks. He had no interest in fighting them in the first place. For all he cared, they had better stay as far away from each other as humanly possible.

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony looked up at Peter whose eyes had flickered down to Tony's chest. Tony pulled his hand back with a start, had not even noticed how he'd been rubbing it up and down the artificial sternum in his chest.

"You don't have to go, Mr. Stark. You're still healing. Please, just—"

Tony dropped his hand. "Actually, I do have to go. But you don't. And I'll be damned if I don't keep it that way."

"What if something happens and nobody is there to back you up?" The kid's breathing was turning frantic, his eyes wide. "What if they hurt you?"

"It's gonna be fine, Pete. There's not gonna be a fight."

"You said that in Germany as well," the kid whispered.

Tony blew out his breath and ran a hand through his hair. The kid's concerns were touching, truly, but this wasn't the time. He hated having to leave the boy like this, still unsure what had prompted him to drop by in the first place. He hated this whole mission in itself. The kid might even have a point. He shouldn't be flying into that mess. Especially when he was basically just hoping that it wouldn't end up in a confrontation, based on nothing more than his own assumptions. Flying into that mess on his own made his stomach turn.

"Hi, FRI. Send a mission statement to Vision to meet me there."

**_"Right away, Boss."_**

The boy looked up at him, eyes pointedly wet. "Pete, I want you to go home. Stay off the streets for tonight. Nothing is going to happen to me and you are safe at home, alright."

"Mr. Stark—"

"I don't want to hear it! You're not coming, end of discussion." Frustration was prickling up and down his spine, his fingers still awfully numb in contrast. He headed outside, towards the platform. "Go home and take the damn elevator!" A small wave was enough for FRIDAY to have the pieces of the Iron Man armor merge around him. He shot a last glance over his shoulder. "Car's on standby. Take that and keep your head down." And with that, he fired up his thrusters and took aim for the capital.

* * *

##

* * *

The car ride back to Queens was one of the loneliest and most useless Peter had felt in probably ever. He hadn't felt this much like an 8-year-old little boy sent to his room without supper even when he had been an 8-year-old little boy. Mr. Stark had not even wanted to consider Peter's help. Had outride forbidden him to go. And with everything that had happened the last time Mr. Stark had gone on his own...

Peter had tried his best. He had made it to the Tower in time. When Karen had shown him the Reddit post of what people were speculating to be the Rogues and managed to extract the location where it was taken, pinning them in Pennsylvania, Peter had jumped into action. He had been waiting for this, convinced it would happen at some point. Rogers would come back for his shield. Mr. Stark had stored it in one of the wall panels in the lab. Rogers wouldn't let that go. That shield was tied to who he was, to his very identity and Peter had been ready for when he would show up to reclaim it, but no. Apparently, he had miscalculated. The Rogues had gone on to D.C., not to New York.

Peter had been absolutely, positively determined to defy his mentor's order and accompany him anyway. But how was he gonna get to D.C.? He couldn't fly. He could have webbed himself to Mr. Stark but that would have been a) awkward and b) super inconvenient. He'd never gotten away with it either.

He had tried to get his mind off it, had gone out into the night anyway and let his frustration fuel the chase of a couple of car thieves. The tracker of his suit was simple enough to disable. Peter had switched from using the laptop to using his phone to access the secret server. It was a lot more flexible to work with. Now he could just turn the transmitter off and manually change the location of his suit to the coordinates of his bedroom, no matter where he was. It made the curfew Mr. Stark had set irrelevant and he could stay out as late as he liked. After all, he was on summer break and he didn't need kid-gloves. He certainly didn't need training wheels. He was Spider-Man after all.

Mr. Stark would never know. He was too busy with his solo missions anyway. Even if he did find out, Peter couldn't quite find it in himself to care. What was the point of all of this, of his strength, his speed and this ridiculous suit if he wasn't allowed to actually make a difference? Peter couldn't help but spiral down further and further into a dark mood. Couldn't help images from the fights in Germany and Siberia flickering up in his memory as he webbed-wrapped the two thieves who had tried to dodge him sprinting across Cypress Hills Cemetery. The catch didn't do anything for his mood though. Time to just head home and mope. It was bullshit. All of it. The Rogues. The authorities in the city as well as the country and the UN. All their bullying and power games. It wasn't fair. He wasn't going to allow these monsters to torment Mr. Stark any longer. He would find a way and when he did—

"Peter!"

He flinched back, the handle of the apartment door still in hand as May stormed from the living room towards the entrance. May? She was supposed to be at work!

"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to call you for almost three hours! I called Ned, I called everyone in my contact list."

Peter could only blink at her. He had nothing.

"I'm talking to you! Where were you?"

"I... erm..." Damn. He had put his phone on 'do not disturb' earlier that day and hadn't thought to change the settings after he had left the Tower. Had only turned off the suit's tracker. He had no excuse ready to go for her, except some form of the truth. "I... I was at the Tower, actually."

"It's Monday! You go to the Tower on Mondays now as well?"

Peter bit his lip. "Not... not every Monday, but there was a project that Mr. Stark was going to finish today and I really—"

"—you really wanted to watch." She had her arms crossed, eyes narrowed on him. "I want to know where you are going to be when you leave this house, Peter. You're 14 for god's sake! This is New York City!"

He bit his lip, eyes on the floor, hoping it would translate more as shame than the annoyance that was actually rushing through him. "I'm sorry, May."

"I called you! Why do you have that phone if I can't even reach you on it?"

"I... I keep it on silent... in the lab." That wasn't a lie either. Mr. Stark would go out of his mind if every twitter notification on his phone would chime up with a cheerful 'bling!'. "I... I forgot to turn it back on, I'm sorry."

"Is this what you do while I'm at work and think you're safe at home?" She had turned her back, pacing up and down the living room. "I don't like this, Peter. I honestly don't like any of this."

"I just forgot to tell you this morning. I'm sorry." He could feel the heat that rose to his cheeks at the blatant lie, but thankfully May was still pacing, only sending him short glances. "It's not like I'm out gambling or something. It's a great job and I just really wanted to go."

"I want you to succeed, honey. I do! More than anything! But our lives are very, very different from that of a Tony Stark. There are different rules for us. And there are definitely different rules for you!"

He shook his head, dismissing the implication. Like he didn't know that. There always seemed to be different rules for him than everyone else. Mr. Stark himself had just made that point very clear.

"I wouldn't even know about this if my shift hadn't been cut short. Peter, I can't have you just do whatever you want without telling me." She stopped at last, eyes on him. "If this is the kind of conduct that is taught and encouraged over there, then maybe this isn't the best fit for you. If this is the kind of behavior you're coming away with from this internship, it's... it's unacceptable. I won't have it!"

"I said, I'm sorry! I promise it won't happen again. It was just... just a special occasion and I didn't know if this chance would come around again while I still got the chance to learn from them!"

"You've been spending a lot of time at that internship and I'm glad that you've got this opportunity and that they ended up valuing your time there. But maybe... maybe with the new school year approaching it'll be time to focus your schoolwork again."

His jaw dropped. He thought he had dealt with May's reluctance for the internship already! He had thought that all these suspicious feeling "You... you really want me to drop the internship?"

"Honey, you've been working for them all summer long. Honestly, I'm not comfortable with all the long days and all these nights you came home late. You're a student, not one of their employees."

He shook his head in bewilderment. "Right now, but... but when I'm done with high school maybe they'll... maybe they'll turn this into a full-time gig! May, Stark Industries is the biggest tech company in the world! Mr. Stark, he—"

"And what about college? I thought you wanted to get a degree in engineering or chemistry?"

"I..." He frowned and shuffled from one foot to the other. "I did. I mean, I do. And with a letter of recommendation from Stark Industries I could—"

"Peter, do you know how much work a degree like that is? You're 14! You have so much time. You can work for years and years, but you're only a teenager once! You only have now to do all the teenager-stuff."

"I... I do..." He shook his head in irritation, trying to fend off the uncomfortable truth she was trying to get at. "I do do teenager-stuff."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time you went out with your friends? Went to the cinema or out to the park? I can't even remember the last movie you raved about or the last time you had Ned over for dinner."

He scowled at her. He had just been to the park yesterday, stopped a guy from stealing two bicycles.

"I do go to the park! And I totally hang out with Ned like all the time."

Fine, most of the time she thought he was at Ned's, he actually was on patrol. And he couldn't really have Ned over when May was home because there was always the risk of Ned bringing up how often Peter really did ditch him in favor of the internship or patrolling. But May didn't know that so it was really unfair that she would use it against him without even knowing the full extent of his antisocial— He really needed to stop making the case against himself. It didn't matter. What he did was important, teenager or not.

"It's a lot of money, May. What they pay me now."

"And I'm glad they do. Finally." He cringed at the dryness of her voice. "But money can't buy back your youth."

"But it can pay for college!"

"So can a scholarship if you spend more time focusing on your schoolwork in the next year!"

He crossed his arms and stared at the carpet. There was no way he'd give up the internship. No way he'd even consider it. Not just the pretend part that he actually spent out Spider-Man-ing, but the hours with Mr. Stark in the lab as well. There was no way.

"Just think about it, okay? I don't like how they groom you into a little worker bee at that company."

He grimaced in annoyance at that. He'd been so careful to drop positive little stories about Mr. Stark again and again for the last few weeks but May's distrust just didn't seem to want to go away! "They aren't grooming me into anything. I like—"

"Peter, just think about it. I think it's time you cut back on the hours you spend there. I don't like what this is turning you into."

"That's not fair! I don't—"

"And this is exactly what I mean." She looked up at him, her gaze almost positively drilling into him and he had to force himself to withstand the urge to turn away from her. "You don't raise your voice to me, Peter. I'm responsible for you and you can be damn well sure that I won't tolerate you taking on any of Tony Stark's antics."

Frustration was burning in his eyes, but he couldn't let his mood ruin this. He forced his voice to stay low, reasonable. "Mr. Stark didn't even—"

"We're done talking about this!" She was determined. "Unless you want me to pull my consent altogether right away."

His jaw slammed shut. May couldn't be serious. His eyes stung and when he realized how close he was to actual tears he turned on his heel, stormed into his room and slammed the door shut behind himself. Head buried in his hands he leaned against the door, stifling a guttural groan. May did call out for him a couple of times to come back out before she sighed herself and started banging around with some dishes in the kitchen.

Peter flung himself face-first onto his bed. What was going on? He was slipping from one nightmare scenario into the next. He had been so careful after May had been conciliated with the paycheck they had received from the internship, so careful to paint a positive picture with every little interaction he could share about his work with Mr. Stark. How had she gotten so mad so quickly? She never usually spoke to Peter like that.

There had only been one incident that had gotten him in serious trouble with his aunt and uncle over the years and that had been so long ago. He couldn't even really remember most of the details around it. It was before they had moved to New York, must have still been in New Hampshire. It had been about that one framed picture Peter had of himself and his parents. Peter had taken it out of the house and shown it to a few boys he was trying to befriend. May found out about it somehow and had been mad as hell. He had never seen her like that before and never since. She took the picture from him and the lecture on private family business and how it was never to be discussed with strangers, would live in Peter's memory forever. He had wanted to argue how the boys weren't strangers. That they were his friends. Julius's mom even worked in the principle's office of the school Peter had been supposed to attend in the fall.

All of it had come as a shock to him. Ben hadn't been pleased with him either but it was May who had been properly mad. Soon it hadn't mattered though. Ben had found a new job in Queens and they had moved to New York City. A few weeks later for his birthday, Ben had returned the picture with a new small frame and told him just to keep it in his desk drawer.

Peter had made sure never to bring up his family's business to strangers again. Had gone out of his way not to upset May. Made sure he was the best-behaved kid May could ask for - well not counting the sneaking out and Spider-Man-ing.

He had always been well behaved and polite. He had always listened to whoever he was supposed to listen to and where did that get him? Maybe all this polite obedience was nothing more than craven submission. Weakness. Those weren't qualities that a hero should hold onto. A wanna-be hero. That was more like it. He still had a long way to go before he could live up to that hero status.

His thoughts wandered back to Mr. Stark. Peter opened one social media app after the other, searching for any news about D.C. but there was nothing. It was driving him insane. The not-knowing. The wait. He buried his face between his arms, tempted to just let his frustration take over and scream into his pillow.

Instead, he picked up his phone again and went to the little short cut he had implemented. It was sick and wrong, but he couldn't help it. He had found the videos by accident. He had really just searched Mr. Stark's ghost drive for any backups of the video evidence of his patrols that he had been carefully erasing from the drive. All those videos that the suit recorded of him using all these featured that he technically wasn't even supposed to know about. It had been an accident, a mistake, but once he had started, once he had clicked on one of them, he just couldn't stop himself.

There were all these little home videos of Mr. Stark and his son stored on the server. Sometimes less than a minute long, obviously filmed intentionally by Mr. Stark or Miss Potts. Others were a lot longer, casual situations recorded by the AI that pre-dated FRIDAY.

It was not just morbid curiosity, the thrill of learning more about Mr. Stark's human side. That wasn't even what affected Peter. It wasn't even that those private moments of baking Christmas cookies or playing with that little bot that followed them around the house had sated his curiosity after Peter had learned about the man's son in the first place. It wasn't even about Mr. Stark at all. It was how easily Peter's twisted mind could see himself in that young boy. It was all too easy. Aiden Stark was just a little dark-haired boy and it was the easiest thing in the world for Peter to imagine himself in those kinds of family moments with his own dad. How he might have played with him building little towers out of toy bricks. How his mom might have carried and tickled him just like Miss Potts had done with that little boy. Peter had none of that. No videos, no photos, barely even any memories of them. Except for that one picture. This could so easily have been how his life had looked like at one point.

Maybe all this was counter-intuitive. Maybe those videos should make him mad or sad or depressed but his twisted mind didn't work like that. He was addicted to these daydreams and they soothed something in Peter's very soul that he was too scared to really question. It was wrong. That much he knew. All of it. That he was on that server in the first place. Betraying Mr. Stark's trust. He hadn't set out to do this. He hadn't gone looking for this but after he had dipped a toe into that water it had turned into a bottomless vortex.

Peter shut off the clip he had been watching and instead went to the Spider-Man folder and carefully erased all the videos that would prove this very patrol that Mr. Stark had just outright forbidden. The thought crossed Peter's mind to look up any new backup videos the Iron Man suit might have recorded an hour or even minutes ago, but just at that moment, a news alert popped up on his phone.

"IRON MAN IN WASHINGTON, D.C. - POSSIBLE ROGUE AVENGERS SIGHTING SUSPECTED"

The article showed grainy footage of the Iron Man suit flying around a warehouse, conversing with Vision. None of them even pictured the Rogues. Mr. Stark should be safe then. For now.

* * *

###

* * *

_(author's note: Thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments! They really are such an awesome motivator._

_Next chapter will by up by the end of the week, so the wait shouldn't be all that long ;)_

_Thanks for reading and sticking with the story.)_


	36. Unable to Determine Location - Chapter36

**Chapter 36 - Unable to Determine Location**

At first, Peter was a little confused. He didn't know if it was arrogance or sheer incompetence that was the Rogues' problem. Maybe they thought themselves invincible and didn't care all that much about people tracking their movements. Maybe they just lacked the general knowledge when it came to technology and the internet that they didn't realize the breadcrumbs they were leaving behind. It had been over a week that they had popped up in Northern America for the first time and since then they seemed to be omnipresent, a constant looming about every community.

Mr. Stark had been busy dealing with Secretary Ross, so Peter had spent less time in the lab and more time on patrol. He also seized the opportunity to let May dote on him a bit. He made sure to help her prepare some of the meals, spend time with her after, just determined to ease her mind when it came to all the things she feared might change between them. They celebrated his birthday a good week after the Rogues had popped up for the first time. Wednesdays were internship days and he was kind of disappointed that Mr. Stark was too busy with whatever Ross had thought of this time. At least May couldn't complain about him spending his birthday at the Tower. She had come home early, around noon. Luckily he had immersed himself in Rogues-research and wasn't out patrolling or his efforts to appease May after the blowup the week before would have been for nothing.

"Is everything alright? Usually, Taylor tries to get you to work more hours rather than less."

She pressed a kiss against his temple in greeting. "Oh, it was nothing. Some security scare that ended up people overreacting, but the bar and restaurant had already cleared out. He knows that we have plans for your birthday and Josh will be fine on his own for the afternoon."

Peter frowned. "What security scare?"

She waved him off. "Someone thought they saw something which turned out to be nothing, but you know how things are right now."

That he did. He had the police show up on no less than 10 occasions the previous week while he was trying to help people. Some of those officers were alright, but he had been shot at another three times by over-eager cops. One incident had even brought out that damn police chief again. He had thought that things were improving and most people did welcome his help, but a lot of them were still on edge. Who could blame them? He sometimes had a hard time telling who was on which team, who was a threat and who wasn't and he was in the middle of the whole mess.

There wasn't much he could do about it except figure it out himself. Mr. Stark refused to even talk about anything related to the Rogues. Peter couldn't really blame him either, not after what the Rogues had done to him. Maybe he could blame Mr. Stark a little for excluding him entirely, but Peter was working on that. He'd prove to his mentor that he was ready and capable to stand up to them. That Peter had his back.

Peter's birthday turned out to be a great day despite all the underlying struggles around them. They went to his favorite Thai place and despite Peter's nerves, things went smoothly. Ned didn't make any suspicious comments about not seeing Peter enough, neither did May. They went to the movies after and he honestly couldn't even remember the last time he had been to the cinema. It's not that May didn't have a point about his social life suffering from all the crime-fighting and interning he had been doing over the last months, but he couldn't just think of himself. He had responsibilities. Responsibilities he had shied away from before at an enormous cost. If he hadn't maybe Ben would have still been there to celebrate his birthday with him.

May would never understand that though. Hell, if Mr. Stark had his reservations about letting Peter in on the big stuff, how would May ever cope with this? That was his lot to deal with and what kind of hero could he ever hope to become if he couldn't even deal with those domestic squabbles?

When they came home from the cinema, May went to bed and Peter sat around doing nothing in his room for a bit. He didn't feel like going to bed yet. He had contemplated going out on patrol but it was just too risky with May at home, just in case that she might want to check up on him. The day hadn't been all that emotional even with Ben not there with them. May had gone out of her way to keep things positive but he had felt the strain so he was sure that she had as well. His desk screamed of the investigation work he had done into the Rogues and he didn't want to think about that for this one night either. Instead, he just lay down on the floor and looked up to the ceiling, made an effort to clear his mind for once and relish in the good vibes of the day. From time to time, he checked his phone for new messages but there were no new notifications. Some kids from school had sent text messages in the morning or left comments on his social media accounts, but there was nothing from the one person he had been secretly waiting to hear from. He had more important things to do, of course. Peter was just an intern after all, he had to start reminding himself of that. He had to stop interpreting more into their bond than was actually—

There was a quiet knock on his window and Peter sat up like an arrow. A small drone was hovering on the other side of the glass, not unlike the surveillance spider-drone he had learned the emblem of his suit could turn into. He quickly jumped to his feet and opened the window. A small parcel was tied around the drone, swinging back and forth underneath it.

"Hi there," he breathed out nervously.

The little bot chirped, not unlike U or Dum-Y would.

"Is that for me?"

His hand reached for the parcel after another chirp from the drone. It took off just as Peter had loosened its cargo. He settled back onto the floor and carefully untangled the brown wrapping paper and found a black box inside with a note on top.

**_Happy Birthday._**

**_ – TS_**

Lip caught between his teeth, he put the little note aside and looked for the release to open the box. It unfolded into different layers displaying a 32 piece lightweight, non-magnetic, titanium tool kit.

"Shit..." he mumbled under his breath. He took out the smallest flat screwdriver and turned it over in his hands. It was fashioned in the same design as Mr. Stark's own tools. There wasn't even a brand name on them. Peter had always assumed they were custom made. He put the screwdriver back and picked up his phone instead.

You're insane. It's way too much and you know it.

He waited a second trying to come up with something meaningful to add but settled for a simple.

It's amazing. Thank you, Mr. Stark.

He didn't have to wait long for a response.

Need to live up to my eccentric reputation. I've worked hard for it.

Then a second message popped up.

I'll see you on Friday.

Peter let himself fall back onto the carpet, eyes at his spot on the ceiling. He was absolutely looking forward to getting back into the lab. Those hours working with Mr. Stark had always been fun but he found it harder and harder to stay in the room for it. More often than not he was distracted thinking about the Rogues. It's not like he wasn't aware that Mr. Stark was completely capable and much more experienced in these things than he was, but he was still only human. He might act like he was invincible but he wasn't and nobody least of all he himself seemed to appreciate that fact.

It turned into a sleepless night, riddled with questions he couldn't answer and scenarios he had no solutions for. Peter wanted to do something, wanted to help somehow and the frustration of his ineffectiveness was keeping his brain from shutting down and sleep to come. He gave up at about 3 am and planted himself in front of his laptop, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He had looked at that data what felt like a thousand times. He just couldn't find the line to connect the right dots.

It wasn't until the next morning when he expanded his inquiries to more than just the US targets that he got suspicious. There were sightings including photographic evidence and sometimes eye witness accounts all over the globe. They were trying to hide in plain sight. That much became very clear to Peter. Instead of actually hiding and letting the authorities figure out a pattern when they did get caught, they were opting for a chaos theory that actively aimed to veil their true targets.

He went for a different approach after that realization. If he would go for the chaos theory, he'd try to draw attention away from those places he'd really wanted to target. There were a couple of areas that they seemed to avoid at all costs. One of them was New York City. That might be a clue for one of two things. Either they were trying to avoid Mr. Stark or they were trying to draw him away from the city.

It took Peter another week until he figured out another clue. There had been a couple of false alarms in town, both of them in Brooklyn. Well, there had been more than a couple of instances where people had thought they might have seen the Rogues and in the end, it turned out to be a prank or someone just angling for a bit of attention. But Peter could pinpoint two specific occasions that were waved off as fake that he wasn't all too sure. There was little reliable information available for either of them but Peter had direct contact to a potential eyewitness.

"So, that security scare you talked about the other day." He had his eyes on the plate in front of him, speaking between bites. "Did they ever find out what really happened?"

May just shrugged. "It was nothing, Peter."

"But you said people left so they must have been really freaked out by something."

She sighed. "I really don't want you to get all invested in this, Peter. It's bad enough that you work in such close proximity to someone like Tony Stark."

His stomach cramped at the reference and the plain dislike May still harbored for his mentor. He couldn't blame her. She didn't know how different from those people Mr. Stark really was. She would probably adore him if she only knew how much the man was really looking out for Peter.

"I'm not invested in this at all. Just curious what happened."

"Nothing happened. Someone thought they had recognized one of the spies and it turned out to be the wrong person. Not even the right hair color. Everyone freaked out for nothing, the end. Are you going to eat that or do you just want to push it back and forth on your plate a little more?"

He looked up at her, his cheeks stinging with the feeling of being caught. "No, I... I'll still eat that."

"Alright then." May got up from her chair and carried her empty plate to the kitchen. "I gotta get going. Send me a text when you get back Ned's, alright?" She gave his hair a quick ruffle before she made her way out of the door for work.

Peter piled the rest of the food onto his plate and headed for his room. There was a bit more research waiting for him before he was going to head out to patrol.

* * *

##

* * *

There were times in life that sucked more than others. This was one of those times. Tony didn't really know if he was ever going to get out of this vicious circle between the corrupt higher-ups in the government and the unrelenting stubbornness of Rogers and his little friends. Just when he had thought that he could have some breathing room, things just went downhill. While D.C. had been a bust for Ross and his agenda, that didn't really help Tony all that much. He had stalled long enough not to put himself in that awkward position of actually having to fight Captain America in the US capital where who-knew-how-many random people could stream the event live on social media.

Without his shield and without most of their weapons the Rogues had been less of a threat but unfortunately for Tony's stress level, while the shield was still safe in his lab, they had managed to get their hands on some of their equipment. Apparently, that had untied a knot in their plans. Dozens of sightings had been reported in North America as well as in Europe and Asia. Tony first assumed that they were looking for something, but the more information from these incidents became known the clearer it became that they were mostly focused on small missions. Hostage situations, organized crime. Most locations and targets aligned with the data FRIDAY had stored on the intel that Rogers and Romanoff had been focussing, when they weren't chasing the Winter Soldier.

They were still Avenging. And there was nothing Tony could see other than the fact that he was still the one dealing with the fallout for it.

Vision had stayed in D.C. for the past week, dealing with Ross. Officially, he was acting as a mediator between the Avengers - or what was left of them - and the government. Tony sure was grateful to him for offering to go, especially with how hard the past months had been on Vision. Many of the conflicts between the team had been built on emotional grounds. Betrayal. Deceit. Pain. Vision was still learning about all that. It was his biggest weakness in dealing with people but at the same time made him the best asset that Tony could wish for in the capital.

People didn't understand the android, misinterpreted his analytical make-up as purely a weakness. Had Vision been dependent only on himself, it definitely would have been, but the way the government officials, aids and advisors disregarded Vision's growing humanity, made them susceptible to one major mistake: they let down their guard around him. Their arrogance made them think they were oh-so-clever with their highbrow quips and jabs at Vision's expense. They were too arrogant to know they should fear Vision or at least Vision's perfect memory. He could recount every conversation to Tony word for word and Tony knew exactly how to read the undertones and what the underlying meanings of the sloppily hidden insinuations were.

Of course, there was the added danger that long time exposure to these idiots in D.C. would have very likely made Tony snap and just punch one of them in the face. Or two. Likely Ross. Both times. Vision was a safer option for the team. He was getting close. He would figure things out and bring Ross down. That was step one to his steep way out of all this mess.

"Is he not going to get in trouble if he needs to lie to them?" Rhodey was holding onto the wooden railing of the physical therapy equipment Tony had installed at the Compound.

Tony's face was pressed against the ground, recalibrating a couple of connections on Rhodey's left leg brace. "Nah. He doesn't really have to lie." He rolled himself over to the other side. "He knows that he is not allowed to tell them anything about what we talk about because it's confidential. If they were to ask him he just says that and they have to deal with it. It's actually a bonus because he will just tell them the same thing in the same tone no matter if they ask what I had for breakfast or what the new schematics for the updates on the Quinjet are. Alright, try it again."

Tony got back to his feet, still a little rusty himself but he had nothing to complain about considering what Rhodey had to go through because of him. Rhodey turned, hands both gripping the railing on either side of the walkway and carefully put one foot in front of the other. It was on the fifth step that he lost some of his balance and toppled forward but Tony was right there, ready to break his fall.

"I got you, just lean back a bit... there you go."

Carefully, Rhodey let himself fall back and came to sit on the ground. His breathing was heavy, his shirt drenched with sweat. "That wasn't too bad, was it..."

"It's nowhere near where it's going to be, buddy. I promise it'll be so much better once we have everything—"

"Hey..." Rhodey squeezed his arm tightly and shook his head. "You don't have to do that, Tony. You don't need to sell this to me. I trust you."

Tony huffed out a doubtful laugh and went to get some water for his friend.

"We will get there when we get there," Rhodey called after him. "And if for some reason it shouldn't work, we'll just try something else." He took the water gratefully and swallowed half the bottle in one go, still somewhat breathless from the exercise. "How are things with the Spider guy?"

Tony shrugged. They were what they were. The kid was antsy to get out there and prove himself and Tony did his best to hold him as close to the ground as possible.

"Pepper said he was at the Compound while you were out of it."

"You're chatting with Pepper a lot, aren't you..."

"Only to complain about you, Tones."

He took the empty water bottle out of Rhodey's hand and binned it before he helped him to maneuver back into his wheelchair.

"That sounds like something I should get offended by."

"I'm serious, Tony. If Ross finds out you work with that dude, shit's gonna hit the fan. They could order you to round him up and you'll have no choice but to go after him."

He shook his head, grateful that the way he was pushing the chair Rhodey couldn't see his face. That was the worst-case scenario. It wasn't like he was micromanaging the kid for fun.

"He won't find out."

"Well, what if he does? Can't you just get the guy to sign the Accords?"

"Nope. Not gonna happen. He's not even in the Accords jurisdiction and I'm not gonna force that piece of shit onto anyone if I can help it. As long as he sticks to his neighborhood, Ross doesn't get to care about him."

"What if they find out about Germany?"

"They won't, Rhodey. Plus, we're close. We'll get Ross before any of this even becomes an issue."

The data he had been able to compile with Vision's help was all circumstantial so far. He had partial intel on illegal bribes, human rights violations, the active manipulation of factual government protocols so they would support Ross' version of the Accords. Tony still needed that missing link that would bring all of this together, but it would only be a matter of time and he would find the essential lever to get Ross fired. Well, worst case fired, best case arrested and thrown behind bars. And it would be Tony's pleasure to personally fly out to D.C. and put those cuffs on the asshole himself.

With Ross out of the way, the corrupt system uprooted and eradicated, Tony would be able to concentrate on the real battle that was waiting out there.

Two weeks since the initial incident in D.C., Ross still haunted his day to day life. He was desperate to find Tony colluding with the Rogues, just looking for a reason that Tony would break the Accords and be at his mercy. With every little scene that the Rogues were involved in, Ross grew more and more insufferable. He called, sent Tony across the country and even across the ocean just because he could.

They had been on this particular call for a good 20 minutes and Tony was desperate to hang up, but the Rogues gave the secretary every ammunition he needed to hammer his propaganda through. They played right into the asshole's hands and Tony had a hard time keeping himself out of the line of fire.

"How many times, I don't know where the hell they are, Ross. I certainly won't fly to India to find out if those sightings have been real. It's a waste of my time."

"You are bound by the Accords, Stark! You have to do as the UN tells you to."

"Only in the event of an active threat."

"The Rogues are an active threat!"

Tony grabbed the edge of his workbench, desperately trying to keep a lid on his temper. "And when we find out where they actually are, I'll intercept them on grounds of the UN mandate."

"Listen, Stark, if you think I'm an idiot and you can just keep me in the dark about your little side project, you're terribly mistaken."

Tony resisted the urge to bite his lip and rub a hand across his face in order to shake his frustration with this idiot.

"You keep me way too busy with your treasure hunts to leave any time for side projects. It hardly leaves me with time for my actual day job."

"Your ego will be the end of you, Stark. You really think I don't know what you're doing with that Spider guy?"

Tony's stare was fixed on the projection of the asshole in front of him. "I assure you, Ross, I have no control over the Spider guy. He's a vigilante. He does whatever the fuck he wants. And last time I checked, delivering burglars and bicycle thieves to the police wasn't a crime."

"Come on, Stark. You really thought I wasn't going to find out that you sent your guy out to look for the Rouges while you stall me?"

"Excuse me? I did no such thing!"

Well, he certainly hadn't sent Peter places. If anything the opposite was true.

"I already have a team on the way, so you don't have to pretend to be all coy about this."

The hair on Tony's neck actually rose as a wave of dread rolled down his back. What the hell was the asshole even talking about? Quickly, discreetly he typed out a couple of lines for FRIDAY, making her display the current location of the kid, eyes firmly on the secretary.

"You should know by now that coy isn't really part of my repertoire, Ross."

FRIDAY had a short message plop up in the corner of the projection for him.

_**"Unable to determine location."**_

No, that... that was impossible. The suit was tracking Peter's every move. He looked back up at the projection of the secretary of state, the smug smile on his lips, defying arrogance in his eyes.

* * *

###

* * *

_(author's note: Thanks so much for reading and all the lovely comments._

_This chapter in its original form had gotten a little long so I split it up. That also means you can get excited for possibly another update over the weekend ;)_

_I love how much you guys are theorizing. It gives me a real kick and it's so hard not to say anything that would spoil what I have in mind.)_


	37. Brooklyn - Chapter 37

**Chapter 37 - Brooklyn**

He had them. He knew that it would only be a matter of time until he'd find them. They were way too smug, way too burly not to attract attention. It had been clever to send out the Widow first, Peter would give them that, but in the end, it was inedible for them to get caught out in the open.

He was in Brooklyn, only a block away from May's hotel. That was honestly the worst part about this scenario. He didn't want her anywhere near these people and a block was way too close for his liking. Hell, anywhere in the state of New York would be too close to his liking.

"So Tony just sends his underling in now?" Wilson clutched the fabric of his jacket in a show of fake hurt. "Does he not care for us anymore?"

"Nobody sent me here," Peter snarled.

Rogers waved a hand at Wilson, signaling him to stop.

"Just step out of the way, son." Rogers' voice was so calm it was almost insulting how little he was bothered by Peter's presence. "This doesn't concern you."

"Oh, you'll find that it does."

Rogers sighed and shot a glance at Wilson. "Why don't you go ahead and join Clint. I'll meet you in there in a minute."

The other man looked Peter up and down before he just shrugged. The door into the building was only a few steps in front of them. They wouldn't have to get past Peter but they sure would have to get a whole lot closer. Of course, Peter could have simply taken them out one by one. let Wilson get away and go after him once he had dealt with Rogers first, but why chase the bird dude later if he was in front of him right there and then? As Wilson stepped forward, eyes still on Peter as he made his way to the doorway, Peter gave his wrists a short flick and shot a set of webs at him, shackling his ankles first, then wrapped one around his torso that pinned Wilson's arms snug to his body.

"The fuck!" Wilson wiggled his shoulders, trying to break free, but only managed to make himself lose his balance. Only the Captain's quick reaction kept him on his feet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rogers furiously tugged on the webs, his arms bulging but not even Captain America would be strong enough to tear Peter's webs apart like that. The batch was perfect. He had made sure that it was.

"What? You think you can just do whatever the fuck you want without any repercussions?" Peter shrugged. "Well, you can't." He took a step closer to them, hands balled into fists. "I'll make sure you pay for what you did."

"For what we did?" Roger huffed out a laugh. "What is it that we did, son? We fought to keep people safe. Isn't that what you claim to do?"

"You didn't though! You didn't keep them safe." Peter couldn't hold onto his temper. He should be collected, concentrate, but he had waited for this for too long. "You got them hurt, caused chaos and put everyone else who's like you... who's different... you put them in danger too!"

"Oh, did we? Do you know what they did to the team?" He helped Wilson to sit on the floor. "Where they kept them locked up before I got them out? Where Tony Stark helped to put them?"

He tried to control his voice, his temper. How could he in the face of such blatant arrogance? "Here's an idea, maybe don't break the law and you won't be put in jail."

"In jail? Is that what we call submarine bunkers and shock collars now?"

Peter's face twitched and he was once again thankful for the mask. The Captain's arms flexed again, his hands agitated. Probably phantom pains from the missing shield.

"That's where they'd put you too and you know it's true. They'd gladly lock all of us in there and drop the key in the deepest part of the ocean." The man's head was tilted to the side a bit, his eyes narrowed. "We're the same, you and I. We fight for the same thing, Spider-Man."

"I'm nothing like you," he spat out. "I'd never do what you have done."

"You'd never fight to protect your team? The ones you love?" The Captain's shoulders shrugged. "Isn't that what you think you're doing right now?"

Peter's heart was beating in his throat. "No," he whispered and cursed himself for the weakness in his voice. "No!" he said again, this time stronger, the vibration of his voice fuelled by anger much more than fear. "I'd never do what you did."

The Captain sighed and lowered his head in what seemed to be less shame and more discontent. "I protected my brother. I freed my team. My conscience is clear, son."

"Conscience... Is that what you want to call it? Conscience? Do you even know what that is? You almost fucking killed him, you asshole!" He couldn't hold it back any longer, frustration burned in his eyes, his skin hot with rage. "How do you dare speak of your conscience when you left your teammate, someone that was supposed to be a friend behind to die on his own?!"

The Captain did take a step back at that. His eyes shifted to his left for just a moment but distinct enough that Peter noticed it. Hawkeye, arrow at the ready, was perched on a window sill two stories above them. The archer hesitated for just a second too long though and Peter shot a web to intercept the arrow first, then the man himself. He grunted as the net struck him and pinned him against the window frame.

"Listen, Spider," the Captain had his arms stretched out in a calming gesture that was almost mockingly easeful. "I don't know what Stark has told you—"

"What he told me? He couldn't really tell me anything while I was waiting for him to wake from his coma."

Rogers took another step back, this time didn't hide the glance he sent up to Hawkeye. "That's not—"

"10 days," Peter snarled following the Captain's movement, taking a step towards him every time he retreated. "For 10 days we didn't even know if he was ever gonna wake up again, but I guess that's just the price you have to pay if you oppose the wise, omniscient Captain America. The pillar of morality. The man who has no qualms about beating his teammates into submission."

"That's not..." Rogers shook his head, eyes wide. "I didn't—"

"What? Do you really want to pretend that you're shocked? Do you want to pretend like you forgot that he's only human underneath all that titanium that breaks like paper under vibranium assault?"

"You need to calm down, Spider." Rogers held his arms out wide what was surely meant to be appeasing but every move the man-made just riled Peter up even more. "There was a fight, yes. But he was fine when I left. I would never—"

Peter couldn't take it any longer. "Karen, taser webs." He fired at Rogers, two, three webs in a row, but he was too angry to place them accurately, his movements too sloppy.

* * *

#

* * *

"Call him, FRI. Call him right now!"

**_"Satellite functions of the Spider-Man suit were disabled, Boss."_**

"Fuck. Fucking shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" His own suit assembled around him and he shot off the Tower's balcony into the New York City sky. "Scan the city. Hack the damn NYPD, I don't care. Just fucking find him!"

Tony had disconnected the call with Ross less than a second after he finally understood what was happening. He might make it in time. He was lucky that he was at the Tower, not the Compound. If they were anywhere in the city he might make it in time.

**_"Brooklyn, 14th Avenue on the corner of 51st street." _**

The suit adjusted directions while FRIDAY was still talking before Tony could even move a finger let alone give her the order to do so.

**_"Our satellites have picked up the suit's signature energy pattern. Sir, It's the backyard of an old print shop."_**

"Break me through that coding into the kid's ear now, girl."

Buildings were racing past beneath him. It only took moments for him to get there. Brooklyn was just across the East River, a little further south past the zoo and a few blocks of residential areas. He had to be faster. He needed every second to get them out of there in time. Tony's pulse was throbbing in his ears as the suit smashed down in the backyard. All he could see was how close Rogers was to the boy.

"Hate to break up the little reunion but everyone needs to go home now."

All he wanted to do was grab the kid and fly out of there but he had no idea how close Ross' unit was. Rogers' eyes were dark, forehead furrowed at his sudden appearance until he ducked out of the way of one of Peter's webs.

"Spider-Man! Stand down now." He felt sick. This was going to cost them. "Get out of here, now!"

"Tony, just calm down for—"

"Shut up, Rogers." He was aware of just how much his voice was wavering, but there was nothing he could do about that now, about the fear of what they could do to the kid. Or even to him. Well, better him than the kid. He could only hope that the suit would distort his voice enough for that terror swinging along with every word to be unrecognizable.

Unfazed by what the sheer sight of him was doing to Tony's pulse, Rogers stepped closer, eyes intently on him. "Tony, we need this intel. People's lives are at stake."

"Didn't you hear him?" Peter yelled out. "Shut up, asshole."

**_"Boss, comms to the Spider-suit are open now."_**

"Leave. Leave right now. You hear me, Pete?" The boy visibly twitched as Tony's voice was projected right into his ear. "You get out right now! Ross' people will be here any minute."

Instead, the kid shot another web in the direction of the Captain but hit Wilson who had crept up behind him. The man shook and went to the ground with a thump, twitching as he fell. Tony stared at him, the sparkles that came off the strings striking in the dark alleyway. His jaw dropped. That was not a regular web. Taser-webs. The kid hadn't just turn off the tracker. This... this was a lot worse.

Before Tony could even react the kid jumped forward and shot a similar web at the Captain, but missed. Electric static buzzed as the web hit the back wall instead of Rogers.

"Peter!" The kid jerked as his loud scream was transmitted by the comm directly to the mask. "Stop! Fucking stop!"

"We can take them, Mr. Stark. They don't have the witch with them. We can take them out together." The boy ducked, just barely avoided the wooden pallet Rogers had thrown at him.

"Leave him be, Capsicle, I'm warning you." His hands were numb. "Ross's people are on their way right now, so unless you want to reacquaint yourselves with the Raft, I'd suggest—"

"On their way?" Wilson snarled, still too shaky to get to his feet, his arms still tied to his body. "Looks to me like they are already here."

"Peter!" Tony made sure only the kid could hear him. "Get your damn ass to the Tower. Now. Ross knows you're here."

The kid did look up at that.

**_"They are coming in from the South East and North Western streets, boss."_**

"North East's the way out," he told them, then looked at Peter. "Go, now!"

"I'm not gonna leave you alone with them!" He didn't even bother to use the comm but Tony was not gonna let the Rogues overhear more of their conversation than he had to.

"If they find both of us here, we'll be cellmates by tonight. Get the fuck out now!"

That seemed to sway the kid after all. Reluctant he pulled himself up to the rooftop of the building and disappeared behind it without another look at the Rogues.

"What?" Wilson spat out. "Running away, Stark? Afraid you can't take us all?"

"Sam, stop it. Let's just... let's just go." Rogers pulled out a knife and cut through the last of the spider webs.

"Is that really who you want to be Tony?" His eyes shot up to the side of the building where Barton too was working his way out of one of Peter's webs. "That the side of history, you want to be on?"

"That's enough, Clint." It looked almost like Rogers was going to step closer to Tony, say something but then they retreated into the shadows of the ally way.

Tony's pulse was racing, he was out of breath, felt lie he'd just done a 5K after a long winter. "I need some fire, FRI."

Quickly, precisely, he melted away the remaining pieces of web, watched them frizzle up and disintegrate into their elementary components. The smoke had barely lifted when the SWAT team stormed around the corner. In his head-up display, FRIDAY was marking off snipers that appeared on the rooftops.

"A little late to the party, gentlemen. And ladies... I presume." His limbs were still trembling but with the suit, nobody would ever be able to tell.

"Chief, only Stark's here." The unit leader didn't even bother to address Tony, just pointed to four of his men. "You, down that ally. I want the whole perimeter secured." Then he tapped his helmet again. "Team Delta, search those rooms. Everything and everyone gets cataloged." He looked up his Tony and even with his face hidden behind the tinted visor of his helmet Tony could feel the version of the man pierce him to his very bones.

"FRI, tell me that the kid got out."

"Peter currently crawling along the bottom of the Brooklyn bridge. He does not seem to be pursued by anyone."

"Tell him, parking garage and elevator. He can't be seen scaling the Tower."

"Right away, Sir."

The group of officers in front of him parted and the NYPD's chief stepped forward, an eyebrow raced as he looked around the backyard.

"Well, well, what's with the fire."

"Clarke. Your guess is as good as mine."

"Those almost look like spider webs up there on that window sill."

Tony didn't even bother to look where the man was pointing. "You'd know better than me, Chief."

He huffed a dry chuckle. "This was a close one, huh?" He stepped close to Tony, no visor hiding his contempt. "I'll get him. I've gotten close before. It's only a matter of time and it'll be my pleasure to make it a double deal."

Tony crooked his head to the side. "Not sure what you're implying here, Chief. You seem like you need a hobby. Too much work is not good for your soul." He looked around the place pointedly and sighed deeply. "Well, seems like nobody here for me to bring back for Ross. Darn. I guess I'll be on my way."

"Cut the crap, Stark." The man stepped a little closer to him but stayed at a respectable distance. "You're coming to the station with us. You have some explaining to do!"

"Do I? An on whose orders am I doing that?"

"Mine! My orders!" Clarke's face was turning red and despite all the adrenaline, all the terror that still rested in Tony's bones, he couldn't help but get some satisfaction out of the chief's desperate attempt to rule his power over him.

"Your orders? My, my, Chief Clarke. Is there an actual UN mandate those orders rest upon or did you just pull that authorization out of your ass?" Tony wouldn't even pretend that the sight of the chief's head this close to combustion wasn't a mental picture he would treasure for a long time, but the prize they would have to pay for this whole shitshow still wasn't worth that small personal triumph. "Well, gents, laters."

The thrusters of his suit ignited and he was out there just as fast as he had gone in.

* * *

#

* * *

Everything around him seemed way too calm. So much calmer than it should when his body was still vibrating with adrenaline and as the unique sounds of New York City's streets were still rushing in his ears. Even his heart was still racing as he paced up and down on the Tower's balcony, mask clutched in his hand. That too must be the adrenaline. Or maybe nerves.

As the elevator doors had opened into the penthouse there had been a part of him that wanted to just go hide in his room, put his head under the covers and try to ignore the mess he had just made. He was in trouble. He knew that. So much trouble. He should have stayed out of sight. Knew very well that Mr. Stark didn't want him to engage. He should have never tampered with the suit, but how could he stand down when it came to the Rogues. After everything they had done.

The familiar sound of Iron Man's thrusters reached him on the balcony, reflected from the bottom to ceiling glass fronts lining the penthouse suite. The noise tore him out of his thoughts and echoed painfully in Peter's ears. The technical marvel of how FRIDAY systematically stripped the suit from Mr. Stark's body usually never failed to amaze him. But now, well, his mind was a little preoccupied with the situation he had landed himself in. Mr. Stark didn't even look up as he stepped off the landing platform onto the balcony. Then there was silence. A long silence. His mentor's breathing was deep, forcefully slow. Not good.

"Inside." Mr. Stark's voice was low. Not the calm low that Peter knew all too well from when the man would explain something in the lab. No, a different kind of low, bottled up ready to burst. Peter jumped into action, followed him into the penthouse at a respectful distance. Not that that was gonna help him.

"We had a deal, kid."

Peter swallowed hard. "I... I know, Sir."

"I told you to stay out of the spotlight. I told you to stay away from them!"

"I know, Sir."

"What the fuck, Parker!"

Peter flinched. Mr. Stark's eyes were squarely on him now, furious. His hands flexing by his side.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I—"

"You disabled your tracker so you could intercept them without FRIDAY tipping me off when I specifically told you to stay _the fuck_ away!"

Peter pulled himself together, looking for that flame of anger inside himself that had given him the courage to go after the Rogues in the first place.

"I tried to tell you but you wouldn't listen," Peter blurted out through gritted teeth. "I told you they would come and that I could help you and—"

"I listened, kid." His voice so low it gave Peter goosebumps. "That's why I kept the authorities occupied and as far away from them as possible."

"But... I don't—" he frowned, confused.

"Not that I'd expect a 14-year-old kid to understand what the fuck is going on here."

Peter's eyes stung as his anger was bubbling up again. "I'm 15!"

"No, this is where you zip it, alright! The adult is talking!" Mr. Stark pulled back his shoulders, back straight and didn't give an inch. He had him locked with a stare that Peter hadn't seen on his face before and got even closer to Peter. "What do you think would happen if you have a superhero fight in the middle of Brooklyn? What if somebody had been hurt tonight because you decided that you want to have it out with Captain Spangles, huh? Just a bit of collateral? A brick that hits an old lady? A building that collapses because a sack of meat smashes into the wrong part of it? What if somebody had died because in some fever dream you thought you could take on Rogers and Wilson _and_ Barton, huh? That'd be on you."

The finger Mr. Stark was pointing at him made his chest hurt as if he'd actually been struck. The hair on his neck stood on edge. Mr. Stark had gotten so close and in his face, Peter was forced to take a few steps back. The angry force of his mentor's voice literally pushed him away.

"And what if you had died tonight, huh? What if you fell out of the sky and broke your back? Had your head smashed against a brick wall? What if you died after you hacked the very suit I build to protect you, thinking you could take on fucking Steve Rogers, huh?" Mr. Stark stopped and took a few breaths, an open attempt to reign in his temper. "I feel like that'd be on me and I don't need that on my conscience, Peter."

"Sir, I... I just—"

But his mentor wasn't done.

"You think I don't know where they are? They fly around with my tech! But if Ross knows where they are he will make me round them up and put them in the damn raft."

"Good." Peter pursed his lips. He couldn't help himself.

"Excuse me?!"

He swallowed hard, not sorry at all. The Rogues had brought this on themselves. It was because of them that Peter as well as Mr. Stark himself had to fear the very people they were trying to protect. It was because of them that his mentor's best friend was relearning how to walk, that Mr. Stark had been in a coma for 10 long days.

"Good! That's where they should be. They are criminals!"

The man's eyes narrowed. "That's not for you to decide."

Peter couldn't hold onto himself any longer, he had kept the anger he had harbored for them bottled up for weeks and it was finally overflowing. "Well, someone should decide! They are ruining the lives of everyone who is different. Because they don't want to listen to anyone they make us hide in the shadows. I'm not gonna stand by and just let them do it. I'm not! Not again. Nobody is going to die just because I waited too long to do something about it. They are not above the law. That's what you said yourself! They are not! And Rogers almost killed you! He left you to die! They need to pay for what they did."

Mr. Stark had fallen completely silent, his hand had fallen down with his arm dangling by his side. His eyes that had been narrowed on Peter in irritation went wide, his eyebrows up. Everything around them was quiet. It wasn't the adrenaline that blocked out everything around him as he had thought, no. There was just stunned silence. Silence and Mr. Stark's deep not so collected breaths that easily stuck out.

"What did you just say?"

"I..." Peter tried to swallow his nerves. What had he just said? "They... you were hurt. They... they should have had your back. They were your teammates and they didn't... didn't have your back!" The hair on the back of Peter's stood tall, electrified with tension. "They... Someone had to stop them. It's their fault. They didn't—"

"Why do you... No." Mr. Stark shook his head. "You said Rogers."

Peter's eyes widened. "I—I didn't mean—I mean you have the shield. I—I know you have the shield and—and the suit was destroyed. I mean it could only—it could only..." His mentor's eyes didn't waver from his face, dark and bottomless. His face slack, no sign of emotion.

_Oh god_.

"You know." Mr. Stark whispered, his voice rough and dark. "How the fuck do you know, Parker."

Peter's heart jumped in his chest. He could deny it. He had to. Or make up something but he had to do it fast.

Mr. Stark took a deep breath, eyes narrowed. "I know. Rogers and Barnes know. How the fuck do you know?!"

Peter's lips moved but no words made their way out of his mouth. His mind was blank. How could he save this? What could he say to make this better and not worse? Maybe Rogers had said something? Maybe that's how he had figured it out? His mentor's eyes were still on him, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, lips pressed flat and Peter couldn't think. The disapproval in the man's eyes had him frozen. It was like nothing Peter had ever seen on him before, not even in Leipzig. Utter betrayal.

"There's no record of this, nothing! Only the—" Mr. Stark's face went blank. "The code for your suit is stored on my server. You... you snooped around on my private server." His voice had lost all of its anger just like his features.

"I... Mr. Stark, I wasn't—wasn't snooping, it just—" Peter felt close to hyperventilating. He hadn't gone looking for any of that. It had just kind of fallen into his lap. "I tried to—When you were in... in the coma, I just wanted to make sure that the suit—that I couldn't be found by any of the people who might—"

"FRIDAY, I want a list of everything Peter had access to when he hacked my system."

"Mr. Stark, I didn't—"

**"List compiled, Sir."**

Peter's eyes shot up to the projection in the middle of the penthouse's living room. The entire ghost drive that the suit's backdoor had granted him access to, was listed in front of him. Coding for his own suit, coding for the Iron Man suits, the nanotechnology research, notes and reports from private investigators, and of course, Mr. Stark's personal files. All the videos that had been stored on that secret server.

"I didn't—" He took a step closer to Mr. Stark, desperate for him to know what really happened. "Sir, I didn't look at most of this. I just—It was an accident. I didn't mean to find all of this. I just—I just wanted to make sure the suit couldn't be traced if anyone was going to access your systems while you were in the coma, I just—"

"FRIDAY, give me a list of the access data." His mentor wasn't even looking at him, eyes fixed on the projection.

**_"The list sorted by accesses count, Sir."_**

Peter gulped. He could even tell the disapproval carried in FRIDAY's voice. He had looked at a lot of that. He knew that. He shouldn't have but it was all right there and there was a perverse curiosity inside of him. He just hadn't been able to look away. The Iron Man suit's video files from the fight in the Siberian bunker were on the very top of the list. He hadn't been able to stop watching it, the images were burned into his retina. 21 times the counter said. Mr. Stark was silent. This was worse than when he had been shouting at him. This was so much worse.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. I..." He couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice. "It was an accident. I didn't want to find all this but you were... I couldn't talk to you about any of this and then you wouldn't tell me anything that happened and it—it was just right there. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, please, I—"

"FRIDAY, last time Peter accessed this drive."

_**"Today at 1:05 pm he accessed Project Sojourner, activated protocol 11B-part2 and deactivated GPS tracking as well as the satellite connection."**_

Mr. Stark's breaths were long and deep, his eyes still fixed on the top of the list that FRIDAY displayed in front of them. Peter couldn't look at it though, he kept his eyes firmly on his mentor.

"How about the video files."

_**"Two days ago, Sir. August 13st."**_

Mr. Stark's eyes went over the file names. It wasn't just Siberia and Mr. Stark knew that. It was plain on his face. Mr. Stark knew what all of these file names meant, knew what it was that Peter had seen.

"Mr... Mr. Stark, please. I'm sorry. I—"

"You lied to me."

Peter hadn't even realized that he was crying until his vision was blurring. "I wanted to tell you, Sir. I just, I didn't know how. I didn't know how to explain and—"

"Take off the suit."

Peter's heart stopped. "Sir—"

"Take. It off."

"Mr. Stark, please—please just let me explain."

The man turned to him at last, face carefully blank but the anger was tugging at the corner's of his mouth, his eyes were dark, bottomless pools full of rage. "Explain? Explain why you went behind my back, lied to me, went out to confront Rogers against my explicit order not to, hacked my private server and poked around my personal files? My son's file? You think there is an explanation that would excuse any of this?"

Peter had to turn his gaze down to the floor. He couldn't bear the look on his face, because he knew that the man, that his mentor was right. There was no excuse. It was why he had tried to keep it quiet in the first place. Why he hadn't confessed to what he had done. It was a betrayal that few people would forgive and Tony Stark wasn't one of those people.

"I'm sorry, Sir." He forced his eyes back up, hoping that maybe his sincerity would be written all over his face just like he felt it was radiating from his very soul. "I know it was wrong. I... it was a mistake. If I could undo it I—"

"Don't even fucking try, Parker. Don't even— This ends here. It's over."

"I'm sorry. I... I am! I'm sorry! Please, I didn't—"

Mr. Stark turned away from him, strutted down the corridor to the room he had been referring to as Peter's room for months now and returned with a small stack of clothes. He flung them across the room at Peter's feet.

"Take it off. Now."

He could only stare at them, frozen to the spot he was standing in. He couldn't give up the suit. He couldn't give this up. He had nothing if he had to give up Spider-Man.

"Don't make me take it off you, Peter."

Peter couldn't help the tears falling from his eyes as he pressed the spider emblem on his chest and the suit slowly widened around his body. Mr. Stark had turned his back, arms pointedly crossed, just waiting as Peter pushed the fabric from his shoulders. His hands were shaking, his stomach was heaving with suppressed sobs. He had never thought that he would find himself in a more painful humiliating moment in this very room after that night he had been stabbed and almost bled out on Mr. Stark's penthouse balcony. He quickly pulled on the jeans and t-shirt, then took his phone out of the suit's hidden pouch. The fabric was soft to the touch. Just the feel of it would never have given away how durable and protective it was. How would he ever wrap his mind around never touching it again? He carefully folded the fabric into a neat package. The suit was not even the most painful loss he would have to stomach.

"They tried to kill you." Peter cleared his throat. His voice was weak and pathetic and he wished he could make more of an impact than he likely would. "They tried to kill you and you didn't even do anything about it. I was trying to protect you because nobody else does."

Mr. Stark turned towards him, arms still crossed. "You're a child. I'm not yours to protect. I told you what would happen if you lied to me. If you went behind my back." He was standing on the other side of the room, kept his distance, but the tone of his voice hit Peter just the same. Made him shudder all the same. "If I see as much as a picture of one of your webs on social media I will come for you. I have to now because Ross will hold me in contempt if I don't. You're done, Parker. Go home."

* * *

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* * *

_(author's note: __As promised, the second part of the split-up chapter. _

_I know this cliffhanger is even worse than the one before, but I couldn't help myself. I promise not to let you wait long for the next chapter._

_Again, thank you so much for all the comments, faves, and theories. Loving it! 3_

_Have an awesome weekend._

P.S. Peter's POV at the beginning of this chapter was added later because I'm an idiot and forgot to copy/paste that part. I still can't quite believe that happened and want to thank the dear Leandrazer for pointing out that there seemed to be a part of Peter vs. the Rogues missing. All I can say is, #ooops and, well... sorry I guess ;D )_)_


	38. Lost and Gone - Chapter 38

**Chapter 38 - Lost and Gone**

He took turns checking his phone and his watch. It was later than he had thought. The meeting had run longer than planned and even 50 deadly stares in Obi's direction hadn't changed anything about that. Then he had to take care of a few more things in the office, but he shouldn't get there that much later than he had planned. Definitely before any of the guests would arrive.

"How much longer, Happy?"

"'Bout 10 minutes, boss."

Tony nodded to himself. That wasn't too bad. The car was speeding along the highway towards northern LA. He tried to distract himself to make the time go by faster. The weather outside was nice which was a good thing if you planned an outdoor kid's birthday party in February, even in Los Angeles. Everything should be set up when he got there. Pepper took care of all that so he wouldn't forget to bring anything. She did, right? He was pretty sure that he wasn't supposed to bring anything. He pulled out his phone and send her a quick text message hoping to confirm that he couldn't have forgotten anything. Pepper had been lecturing him about how his son didn't need a big present, that time spent together, a vacation, trip to the zoo, stuff like that would be a lot more meaningful for Aiden. Tony didn't disagree but he couldn't not give his boy something and the kiddy car he had found would be perfect. Aiden would love it. Even if love for engineering wasn't hereditary, Tony would make sure to imprint that particular taste for engine oil and tools on his son. All those things that Tony learned to love more so to impress his dad that they never actually had shared in the end, all that he would extensively cherish with his own son. If Aiden wanted to, but he already loved the bots and the workshop and Tony would do everything to lean into that.

Happy pulled up in front of the entrance to the golf club they had rented for the occasion. The blow-up bounce house Pepper had secured was so big, it was looming over the clubhouse. He couldn't help but smirk. Aiden had probably already tested that excessively. There were a couple of nervous-looking ladies in the foyer when he stepped inside. One of them went straight for him.

"Mr. Stark. Sir, Miss Potts has asked me to bring you straight to her. She—"

He waved the lady off with a groan. "Of course, she did."

"Tony..." And there she was.

"I know, I know. I'm here now." He didn't think that he really deserved that level of exhaustion that was radiating off her. He had tried to get things at the company sorted as fast as he could. "I'm only like what... 20 minutes late. I still had to sign all that stuff you put out for me. I only read maybe every second page to get done faster. I hope I didn't sell anything important by mistake. Well, I'm here now. People won't get here for another—"

"Tony, I... can you... can you just come with me real quick."

He had been trying to see if he could spot Aiden anywhere outside. The kid should probably really lie down for a 20-minute nap so he wouldn't get cranky and Tony could totally use that nap himself. "Did Addy get to nap already? It's probably not the worst idea if we—"

"Tony, please, can you... can you just—"

"Pepper, are..." He frowned when he really looked at her. She looked almost shellshocked. "Are you crying? What's going on?"

She dragged him by his arm, dragged him into the closest room and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Pepper, what happened? Is—" His heart jumped painfully in overdrive. "You're freaking me out, what is—"

"Addy is... we... we can't find him. I don't know—"

"What?" His heart dropped down to his stomach like a heavy stone. "What do you mean you can't find him?"

"I... we can't find him. I was... I was with the people from catering and Lisa and Tina were outside with him and when I came back out he... We've been searching the grounds, the whole area. I... I called the police right away. They should be here already I—"

Tony pushed past her out of the room then out of the backdoor onto the large garden area of the property.

"Aiden!" His heart was beating faster than he thought possible, painfully fast. With every second the feeling just intensified and he couldn't breathe. "AIDEN!" Tony turned towards her, pulled her close. "How long has he been gone? When did you see him last? Where?"

She swallowed hard, openly crying now. "About... about 20 minutes ago is when we... when we realized, I... I'm so sorry, Tony, I'm so sorry!"

He turned back towards the grounds, calling out for his son. Aiden never ran off. Never. Tony had been so careful, had always told him to stick close to his people. Pepper was right behind him, calling out his son's name as well and as he scanned the area around them he saw other staff doing just the same, spread out along the boundaries of the area. Tony couldn't think straight. He couldn't even tell how long they had been out there.

The police arrived. They said he might just be hiding. How kids like to hide. Maybe he was too nervous to come out with everyone calling for him. Aiden would never hide from him, never. He'd jump out, go as far as pull himself out of a tantrum when Tony came home from work just so he could hug his dad. He would never hide. Then more police arrived. Dogs. Tony couldn't feel his throat. It had to be raw from screaming his son's name. He couldn't say how long he had been out there, he only knew that he wouldn't leave. He wouldn't, not without his boy. It took both Rhodey and Happy to force him into a car when the sun had started to go down.

They must have given him something. As Tony sat on the couch in the living room of his Malibu home, he felt way too calm for what was happening around him. They must have drugged him with some kind of downer. He was still coherent enough to deduce that. Coherent enough that he knew that without something messing with his mental state there was no way he'd be at home, let alone sitting down.

"Was there a call?" Detective Roberts was standing tall in the middle of Tony's living room flanked by an additional four LAPD officers. Like they would somehow make a difference, standing there in his home. "Maybe a letter that was left somewhere? Some form of contact from the outside?"

"Nothing. Nobody—" Tony cleared his throat, feeling eerily detached. "Nobody called. Nobody contacted me, I..."

"Mr. Stark, we would advise you to send someone to your office as well and monitor every form of communication a potential kidnapper could use in order to contact you. If they do make contact it is important that you let us know immediately. Don't try to solve this on your own. I know this all seems very scary but I promise you, we will do our very best to bring your boy home safely."

"Right." He looked up at Rhodey who was sitting next to him on the couch. Pepper and Obi were hovering close by. Pepper was crying constantly. He wished that he could cry. Maybe that would bring some kind of relief. All of this was just so surreal. How could this be happening? He should have been there. He should have never gone to that meeting. What kind of imbecile would agree to go to a meeting on their son's birthday and leave him out in the open, without protection? What if—

Detective Roberts cleared his throat and didn't continue until Tony's gaze, his attention was back on him. "I understand that you might be tempted to just act if someone were to contact you and ask for money in exchange for Aiden's safe return. It might seem easy to just pay them, but I must advise you against that. It can be a dangerous proposition especially because it would be difficult to rule out copycats. It could turn dangerous not just for the security of your son but also for you."

"I understand." Not that he cared for his own safety. He didn't give a shit about that. He would walk into open fire if it meant that his son would be safe.

"We can station Agent Loyd with you for now. For your protection as well as for a swift way to communicate with the LAPD should new developments unfold."

At that, Obi stepped up next to him, one hand strong on Tony's shoulder. "What kind of time frame are we talking here, detective. Until when should we expect any... developments?"

"Usually a kidnapper will contact the family within 24 hours with proof of life and their demands."

"What if—" Rhodey shifted uncomfortably next to Tony, careful to avoid his eyes. "What if it's not a kidnapper?"

"We are still searching the area with dogs. Our helicopters are equipped with thermographic cameras. We send out divers to check every area of water on the property just in case this was an accident after all."

"He wouldn't just wander off." Tony had his eyes on the back of the room, not even speaking to anyone directly. "He would never just wander off like that."

"We simply have to rule out every possibility to understand what happened. We have interviewed the staff including the two nannies." He checked his notes. "Lisa Gonzalez and Tina King. Both of these interviews have not revealed anything insightful, unfortunately, but just in case we'll hold them in custody for now."

"Is that..." Rhodey cleared his throat. "Did you charge them with anything?"

"No, no," the detective interrupted him. "This is perfectly normal, I assure you. We are well within our rights to keep them in custody for 96 hours without a charge, especially in a serious case like this."

Tony could feel Rhodey turn to him like he was supposed to do something about this? He just wanted to have his son back in his arms. He didn't care how.

"Apparently the two women had been preparing some form of presents for the guests that should be arriving." Roberts flipped back and forth between a couple of pages on his notepad. "On Aiden's request, or so they both say. That all three of them had been searching the area for four-leaved clover. Then after a certain amount of time that for both of them is seemingly difficult to assess, they discovered that Aiden was gone." He turned to Pepper. "Miss Potts, you are the one who hired both women to supervise Mr. Stark's son, is that correct?"

"I— yes. Yes, I did. I—" Pepper's voice was strained, hard to hear through the fog that was encasing Tony. "Lisa has been with us since... well, shortly after... after Addy... Addy—" The couch underneath him moved up a bit as Rhodey stood from his seat next to him and took just a couple of hurried steps until he was next to Pepper. He reached for one of her hands and wrapped an arm around her for support. "After Addy was born. Tina, she... she helps out on the weekends or... or during late nights, special occasions."

"And to your knowledge the women's testimony is accurate? Were you aware that the nannies were roaming the area with Mr. Stark's son?"

"I... yes." Tony did turn to look at her but couldn't really bring himself to feel anything as she stood there, crying. The numbness in his chest left him somewhat paralyzed. "I knew that... that they were outside looking for... for—" Her hand shot up and covered her mouth, stifled a sob. Rhodey pulled her closer, whispered soft reassurances to her. A few deep breaths later, she cleared her throat, eyes firmly avoiding everyone else in the room. "Aiden loves to be outside. He... he loves to run around the park and... and the beach. That's why we—why we wanted to do this outdoors."

"Hm." The detective made some additional notes on his pad, then looked back up at her. "And you are the one who found the location and convinced Mr. Stark to pick it. Is that correct?"

"I—"

"Hey!" Rhodey was staring at the detective. "I don't know what you are trying to insinuate with this line of—"

Tony stood up from the couch. He had enough. "This is ridiculous. We're all just standing around doing nothing." He had enough of these people just talking. "JARVIS, where are my keys?" He was going to find Aiden himself if he had to. He couldn't just be gone. He had to be out there somewhere. He couldn't just disappear into thin air.

"Mr. Stark, it is really not advisable—"

"JARVIS!" Why was that damned AI not answering?

**_"Sir, I must advise against any rash actions in your—"_**

"Oh, fuck you!"

"Tony..." Rhodey had stepped back to him, one hand a firm grip of his arm. "There are people out there, hundreds of people looking for Aiden. They know what they're doing. The best we can do to help is figure out what might have happened, so—"

"Well, I don't know, do I? I wasn't there!"

"Shh, I know, man." Rhodey pulled him closer, hands now squeezing both his arms tightly. "I know. But you can't drive. You're in no state to help right now. We need to let them do their jobs, alright?"

Tony shook his head. That couldn't be all he could be useful for. There had to be more. He wanted to rage and rip those grounds apart with his bare hands till he found his son but his fury was somewhat stunted, couldn't really pick up speed.

"You gave me something."

Rhodey nodded, still standing close to him. "Yes. I did." He still stood close to Tony, a hand on his arm as if Tony would run off if not physically held back. "You were freaking out. And you have every right to be freaking out, but it not going to help you or Aiden if you go to pieces, buddy." His hand squeezed Tony's arm again. "We have to pull it together now. We have to find a way to help them help us. Help them find your son."

Maybe the downers were to blame, but all of that sounded reasonable. He felt useless but he also didn't see a way to be of more help.

"Why doesn't Pepper get you upstairs, my boy." Obi stood right next to him, patted his shoulder, then nodded at Pepper. "We'll take care of everything, don't you worry. Maybe Detective Roberts could bring Colonel Rhodes up to speed on the specifics of the search so you will know that they are doing everything that can be done, hm?"

Tony nodded. That, too, sounded reasonable. He could analyze their strategy. Make it better. Find Aiden faster. If only his brain was working right.

The windows in his room were darkened. He didn't even know which day it was, how long he had been in his room. He knew it had been long. There was a low throbbing somewhere in his brain that told him he should care, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. Pepper came and went with food that he didn't touch and water or tea she almost physically forced into him. Sometimes she sat there with him, apologizing over and over. Blaming herself. Sometimes she would just lie down next to him, hold his hand, tell him how they just had to wait and how everything would turn out okay. Sometime she wouldn't say anything, just cry with him.

He had been wrong. Tears brought him no relief whatsoever.

What was the point of all this? He had hoped. For a day, then two. He had hoped that these people's lust for money would be strong enough that he could just pay off whoever had done this to them. Whoever had taken his son. But there was nothing. No claim. No note. Nothing.

His hope was fading. His heart was breaking more and more with every moment the realization set in that this might not happen. That they might never find him.

* * *

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* * *

Tony wished it was raining. Not that it would change anything about the shit show that had been his Monday, but somehow it would make him feel better about having to deal with it than that blue sky, summer-sunny weather. He hated all of this. This city, Rogers, Ross, Clarke, all these assholes that made his life miserable. He hated himself. For not paying attention. For not seeing. For not being better at this. A better person, a better hero. A better version of himself.

He wished he could be done with all of it. Maybe just buy a house somewhere in the countryside. Learn to fish or something. Just be somewhere where nobody could get to him. Where they would let him just be. But he couldn't. He couldn't walk away. He was all that was left. The last barricade between what was good and right, between the people and all those that would use them in whatever way they could.

That's what he had believed anyway. That he was on the side of what was good and what was right. At least until he had thought about calling Pepper or Rhodey to whine about how that 14-year-old boy he had been sponsoring as an underaged vigilante had gone ahead, almost gotten himself killed, them both arrested and then shattered every last piece of confidence Tony had had in his capacity to spot bullshit. He could vividly imagine what level of sympathy Pepper would have for him if she found out what he had gotten himself into.

It was no use. He was on his own in this because that's the bed he had made for himself. Tony turned his head to the side and looked out of the window, watched the City of New York bustle about beneath him. Just a regular Tuesday for all these people living their lives like nothing had changed.

He had to get a grip and move on. Focus on what was important. The day before had been a heavy blow. A heavy set-back and his head was still throbbing from the round of self-medication he had gone for afterwards.

"FRI, update."

**_"Good morning, boss. It's Tuesday, August 16th, 11:39 am. You have two missed calls from Colonel Rhodes. As per your request from last night, I cleared your schedule for the day. Miss Potts sent a message request about an hour ago to inquire about when she can schedule your return to work."_**

_Inquire about when she can your return to work..._ That was Pepper-speak for _get your ass out of bed_.

No word from Ross yet. That was somewhat good news. If they had found any proof that could connect Tony to helping out the Rogues they'd have broken down his door already. Well, they would have tried to at least. The Tower was not all that easy to penetrate. Ross would have to bring the big guns and for all intents and purposes right now _Tony _was his big gun.

He sighed and reached for his nightstand, took a couple of Advil to fight off the headache. There was no point in putting off what he had to do. He still had to bring down Ross. The man wouldn't stop no matter how much Tony was struggling. He would just plow ahead until he eliminated all the obstacles that stood between him and more power.

"Call Rhodey for me."

_**"Right away, boss."**_

Rhodey answered after only a couple of rings. "Hey, you alright?"

Tony rubbed a hand across his face. "Peachy."

"What happened?"

"Why would you think something—"

"Tony, cut the crap. I know they were in town. It's all over the news. Are you alright?"

"I..." Tony sighed. No. No, he was not alright but it had very little to do with the Rogues, at least not directly. "I'm fine, Platypus. You know that I'm a tough cookie."

"What happened? Did you talk to them? What... what were they doing in New York?"

"I... no. No, I didn't talk to them. Just got there in time to tell them to beat it. Ross, well, Ross couldn't hold his tongue. Guess he thought that his people had already made them. Just got there in time."

"Wait, Ross told you? What... what do you mean? Did he outright threaten you?"

"Urgh, he said my ego will be my downfall which I guess is fair. He thinks I know where they are and kept that information from him. Which is also—"

"Stop. Don't. I..." Rhodey sighed. "You can't tell me. You know that."

"Yeah. Right. Sorry." Tony shook the thought from his mind. Rhodey was right, of course. If they were to subpoena him and he'd have to lie, he'd risk a treason charge. He already knew too much anyway. Not that he could blame Pepper for telling him about the coma. She'd have been hard-pressed to explain why Tony wasn't visiting Rhodey's hospital bed. It had been more of a life and death kind of problem. Ross and the Rogues, his strategy... Tony could handle that on his own. He didn't need anyone to hold his hand through it.

"You know, I wanna help. I will help with anything you ask, Tones, I—"

"I think maybe it's time for you to head back to D.C." Tony slowly rolled himself out of bed and made his way towards the coffee maker.

"Tony—"

"I'm not... I'm not saying that to be spiteful or... or anything. I know there are things that we do, that put you at a higher risk than they do me or Vision. We have to be smart about this. If Ross ramps up the aggression towards us, we need to be a step ahead. The braces work well, it's just a matter of practice and physical therapy at this point and... and maybe having you in D.C. to back Vision in some of those meetings wouldn't be the worst thing."

The line stayed quiet for a while.

Tony sighed. "It's gonna be fine."

"What are you not telling me?"

Tony bit his lip, grateful that it wasn't a video call for once. Quietly he shoved a cup underneath the coffee maker and hit the button for a double espresso.

"I'm not pushing you out. I'm just doing what we have to. We need to win this one, Rhodey."

"Maybe we need to have a detailed discussion on what exactly would qualify as a win."

"Right."

"When's the last time you talked to Pepper?"

"Erm, that... that would have been last week. We actually had a very pleasant conversation about the next couple of months and when we will—"

"About anything not related to the company?"

He fished out the cup from under the machine and dragged himself to the kitchen counter, elbows propped up on the table, head cradled in both his hands. He should have waited for these Advils to kick in before calling Rhodey.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say here."

"You need to get your shit together man. She's your best friend."

"Er, no. You're my best friend."

"That's true and you know it. You miss her."

"Come on..."

"You miss her and you know I'm right. She misses you, too. You can still fix this."

Not when she would hear about how he had been sponsoring a 14-year-old vigilante for the last few months and almost got himself and the kid arrested and sent to the Raft. Even without that little detail, he'd never pull Pepper into this mess.

"Right. Listen. Just think about D.C. and—"

"Tony, I mean it. I'm worried about you."

"We're in the middle of a ridiculous international shit show fighting for our lives and the eventual survival of humanity. I'd be worried if you weren't worried, Platypus."

Rhodey sighed. "You're infuriating."

"So I've heard."

He hung up after repeatedly reassuring Rhodey that he was being careful and that he did have a plan, which wasn't a lie per-say, more a form of embellishing the facts. He pulled off the headset and stretched his back, turn away from the kitchen counter and of course his eyes fell on the suit.

The Spider-Man suit was still lying there on his living room floor, neatly folded. He hadn't touched it ever since Peter had taken it off. He wanted to burn the damn thing but that would be like setting fire to a few million dollars. Not that he couldn't afford it but it was unlikely that he would be able to bring himself to destroy it. He'd worked on it for weeks. Made sure that it was perfect. Agile and fast, above all: safe. He had put in fail safes. The tracker, satellite observation and even video and audio recordings that would back up every patrol the boy would go on, just in case something would happen. Just in case, Tony would have to find him. He had never even checked the videos. Hadn't checked the tracker. Never seen a reason to. There was an automated alert should the suit send out a signal from outside of Peter's home after his curfew but that had never gone off. Now he knew why. He had trusted the boy. That had been his first mistake.

What kind of idiot would trust a pubescent boy with superhero powers? He should have known better. The boy had been Tony's responsibility and he had let him roam free. It had been a foolish mistake.

* * *

##

* * *

August in New York City was always a pain. Even with the sea so close the heat was absorbed by the concrete buildings, trapped between them and just didn't allow much relief. Queens was bad but Manhattan, well Manhattan was a different kind of ball game. Peter had spent his last few nights on the rooftops of Queens. There was still air to breathe up there and the closer he got to the East River, more of a breeze would allow him to somewhat relax from the smoldering heat of the day.

But the closer he was to the East River, the clearer his view of Stark Tower. Manhattan had many skyscrapers of course, just next to Stark Tower there was the Chrysler building, but none of them shone as bright and mighty on the New York City skyline. It wasn't the tallest building among them, but still, it was the one that would catch your eye more than any other. It used to be a sight that filled Peter with joy and for some time there, even with pride. To have an Avenger, to have Tony Stark live in your city was one thing. One phenomenal thing that had him giddy even as a young boy with the Stark Expo in town when he'd sit down for dinner with Uncle Ben and Aunt May and they'd let him ramble about his favorite superhero. There would be no words to describe how proud he was to work alongside Mr. Stark. No words. It was... Well, a dream to have that chance, to have Mr. Stark not just teach him but look out for him, build him his own suit. It had been overwhelming.

But now... When he looked up there now all he could think of was how he had failed. Himself as well as Mr. Stark. He had fucked this up so bad when all he wanted to do, all he had really tried to do was help him. Was _avenge_ him. But he couldn't. It had gone all wrong. All wrong.

Peter's pulse was speeding up, his stomach turned. He had to make things right. He couldn't leave it like that, it wasn't... it wasn't right. He had to apologize. Properly apologize for screwing with the suit. Disabling the tracker. Going after Rogers. Rogers. Fucking Steve Rogers who was supposed to be a hero.

It didn't matter though. Rogers didn't matter. The Rogues didn't matter. He had let Mr. Stark down. After he had trusted Peter, had let him into his lab, his life even, Peter had gone and poked in his private business like a fool. Like an asshole. That was on him, nobody else.

He didn't even really realize what his feet were doing until he found himself at the entrance to the subway station. He had to go. He had to make things right. He could never even begin to be Spider-Man again if he was acting like a child, hiding in the dark. Hiding from his mistakes.

It had been 4 days. 4 days since Mr. Stark had taken the suit. Since he had kicked him to the curb. Peter still hadn't found the courage to tell May. She'd probably be thrilled even if it meant that Peter would have to go back to one of those shop boy jobs. Not that he cared about that. He'd gladly pack groceries till the end of his days if he could keep being Spider-Man. If he could keep that internship. That time at the Tower. He had taken all of that for granted. She'd be ashamed if she would find out what Peter had done. Worst of all, she couldn't even blame Mr. Stark for what Peter was turning into. It was all on him.

The ride only took about 15 minutes. It wasn't far to Grand Central from where he had been hanging out in Queens. The trip was so familiar to him, he didn't have to think about where he was going, just followed his feet. Fridays were internship days and Peter still had his access card to the Tower. Chances were Mr. Stark had taken away his privileges and FRIDAY wouldn't even let him up. Chances were he wouldn't even make it through security. In fact, that was very likely. He had to try though. All that mattered was that he made things up to Mr. Stark. That he apologized. Sincerely. Not just because he had taken the suit. Not just because Peter craved his support, his help. Because Peter had been wrong, had made a mistake. Had... had hurt him. Broken his trust. Completely.

But as he stood in front of the Tower and looked up at those floors rising high above New York City, his pulse began to speed up even more. The hair on his arms was starting to rise from the adrenaline shooting through his body. Just the prospect of having Mr. Stark look at him with that disapproval and pushed down anger in her eyes made his breathing turn to shallow painful pants. What was he even doing? He had messed up. He couldn't just walk in there like that. Like he had the right to just demand Mr. Stark's time and attention. He couldn't. This had been such a foolish idea. It would make everything just a whole lot worse! Mr. Stark had been so mad he... alright, he needed to calm down. His head was swimming. Every step he took just added to his dread, added to his nerves running wild. The voices around him were penetrating his brain. He needed to shut this down before he lost control. He walked quickly around the corner, looking for that cove he had hidden in before. Months ago. The cove he had hidden in on the first day of his internship.

It had to be close, it had to be. He needed to try and shut out as much of the stimuli as possible and hurried towards the safety of his little hideout when someone ran right into him, bodychecked Peter with his shoulder straight to his chest. Peter stumbled, one hand still holding onto his head, his senses still flaring.

"What the—"

He looked up and before he could do anything there were hands on him, two sets, or three? He tried to shake them off, flung his arms around and did manage to push one of them to the ground, then a second one, acting on pure instinct. There was fire in his neck, in his bloodstream. He pressed a hand against the side of his throat, the other arm trashing back and forth. He couldn't think. It was like fire in his bloodstream. His throat was closing up and he couldn't focus on a single thought, couldn't think of a single thing he could do. Then everything went black.

* * *

#

* * *

Something was covering his mouth. He tried to breathe and his eyes opened up in panic when he found that he couldn't really. There was tape on his mouth, his hands tied behind his back. A sharp, quick impulse of his arms ripped off the tape on his wrists. It did hurt but he couldn't gasp with his mouth taped shut, something stuffed into his mouth as well, uncomfortably keeping his teeth apart. He just forced as much oxygen through his nose as possible.

"Shit!"

Before he could pull the tape off his mouth there were hands on him again. One pair. Two. Three pair.

"Just fucking hold him down."

Peter struggled and tried to kick, but his legs were taped as well, around his ankles and his knees. He couldn't free them no matter how much he tried to struggle against the bounds, against those men. They managed to hold him down. That wasn't possible. How could they hold him down like that? He was supposed to be so much stronger than them!

"This is ridiculous. How is he awake? Did you not measure this shit right?"

"Hit him with another dose. There's something off with this one. Smarts will need to get something stronger. Leave it to fucking Stark to pick a freak as his favorite intern."

This time Peter did feel the needle pierce his neck before whatever they gave him burned in his veins. He wanted to fight, had to get them off himself. He wanted to sob, to call out for help, but there was nothing he could do, nothing to shake them off as darkness rolled over him once again.

* * *

#

* * *

Consciousness came back to him like waves would roll up on the beach. With every blink of his eyes, his vision became a little clearer, his surroundings a little more distinct.

"That's him? That's Stark's intern?"

"Definitely, Boss. Peter Parker. He had an access card for the Tower with him and even an SP3-10!"

"A what?"

"SP3-10. It's the newest Stark phone. It's not released until next month!"

Peter's head was throbbing, a deep dull pain that pulsated intensely right underneath his skin. He could hear them but he couldn't really see. General shapes and forms, yes, but nothing specific. His brain seemed to be screaming for oxygen but his mouth was still stretched with a gag, taped shut. His breathing came in jerky desperate inhales through his nose.

"Huh. Stark's little favorite indeed. Hack that phone. There has to be some useful information on there. At the very least Stark's number, so we can let him know where to bring the prize to ransom his little darling."

"There's no way to hack that phone, boss. Nobody has even seen this before. We wouldn't know where to begin."

"Well, start with the fingerprints. Retina scan." A hand snaked into Peter's hair. He hadn't really noticed that he was slumped forward until his head was pulled back and he sat upright, desperate to lessen the pain as the man seemed to try to pull out his hair by the roots. The man now looked straight into Peter's face. "If that fails we'll have to find another way to crack that thing open." He flashed his brown teeth at Peter. "Good morning, precious. I kinda hope you were clever enough not to use your birthday or something easy like that as a code. It'll be so much more fun to figure out some random number."

Peter flinched, tried to move away but he was tied too tightly to the chair, his feet completely immobile. There was no way to get away from him, bt Peter would never tell them. Would never let them crack the phone, not with the direct access to Mr. Stark's private server on it still.

"Tut, tut." The man petted Peter's cheek and he couldn't stop the tears that rolled off his lashes. The fear was paralyzing. "It's not very polite to pull away from your host. Did we have a nice nap?"

Peter couldn't look at him, had to look away. The man just laughed and let go of his face.

"Where are we at? Do we know what wrong with him yet?"

"He's a freak. Everything is wrong with him."

"Shut up, Gordan." the boss man snarled at his man. "I want useful comments only."

"Sorry, Boss," the guy murmured.

"He's really strong. Burns through the tranquilizer like it's candy."

"Huh." The boss bent down once again and when Peter wouldn't look at him he put his hands back on his face and made him. "Maybe he's a little more than just an intern. Did Stark experiment with his father's serum on you, boy? Trying to create his own little soldier?"

Peter shook his head as good as he could, tears steadily falling from his eyes. The man reached for the tape on his mouth and ripped it off with a fast pull. It hurt like hell and Peter couldn't help but groan in pain. He couldn't move though. The man had his face in a strong grip and pulled the rag out of his mouth.

"What did Stark do to you? Speak!"

Peter tried to find his voice, but pain and fear still gagged him. Sharp pain rippled through him and just then did he realize that the boss had slapped his face.

"I said, speak!"

"Help!" Peter screamed out as loud as he could manage, his voice breaking in the process. "Help, ple—"

That got him another two punches to his face. He curled into himself, tried to get away, to hide from the assault. The man grabbed his hair again and pulled back his head, his face so close to him, his smell made Peter gag.

"It's not that I don't get a kick out of your pathetic little cries, baby, but I asked you a question. What did Stark do to you?" When Peter just quietly panted he tugged harder on his hair. "Speak!"

"No-nothing," Peter sobbed. "He did... he did nothing."

Boss-man just rolled his eyes and pointed at one of his men. "I want what's on this phone. Run his blood. Use Rico's contact. If this is one of Stark's little pet projects, we might just fucking struck pay dirt."

* * *

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_(author's note: __Alright, the response to that last chapter was a little insane. Thank you all so much for all the nice comments, including the incoherent freakouts ;)br /_

_I really enjoy your theories of where you think this is going even if I'm trying not to respond with any spoilers ;)_

_Thanks again for reading and sticking with me.)_


	39. A Promise - Chapter 39

**Chapter 39 - A Promise**

Updates were Tony's thing. He'd always been great at updates. It was a common misconception that his ingenuity came from random eureka moments where he would just come up with some innovative shit. In reality, he would analyze a system, catalog the flaws, and then work the problem. It was problem-solving skills. Sure, the solutions required him to come up with some innovative shit, but even a huge chunk of his innovative instincts was grounded in his solid analytic mind.

The project in front of him was the best example. Sure, nanotechnology was highly innovative and there was nobody on the planet who came close to the level of functionality Tony had been able to implement in the housing units, but all that came from the need to update his technology. The suit hadn't been good enough, so he had analyzed the weaknesses and was en route to fixing the issues.

He tapped the modified arc lying on the workbench in front of him. Two taps and the nanoparticles spread out around the arc, forming a layer of armor encircling the housing unit. He tapped the unit again and just as quickly the nanites retreated into the unit. He had managed to fully implement the nanites in a watch-sized housing unit and it sure had saved his life in Berlin fighting against the Winter Soldier, but it wasn't enough. He needed more control, more flexibility in a fight. A method for them not just to form the pre-programmed piece of armor but to adapt into whatever form of weapon or shield he would need at any given time. He needed that sort of control over his suit and he needed it fast.

"Catalogue that one under the 4.1 Nano Arc test series, FRI."

_**"Right away, Sir."**_

He had a suit to take out of course. The one he had taken to Siberia was beyond repair, but even without the Iron League, there was always more than one suit available. That clash with the Rogues earlier that week had been another red light though. He shuddered at the thought of how exposed the armor still was in the strategic places when his opponent knew what those places were.

Ross had been on his case for days. Of all the things that irked him about this mess, it wasn't the kid's idiot move to go off on the Rogues in an attempt to live out some kind of twisted revenge fantasy. It wasn't fucking Rogers and his buddies showing up in New York City either. In fucking Brooklyn of all places. It wasn't even all the lies and the bullshit the kid had pulled behind his back.

But fucking Ross. Fucking Ross had been faster to see what was happening in his city, with his own damn Spiderling before Tony had. He should have seen this. He had had everything in place to notice what was happening. He fucking did have everything in place to monitor it. All it would have taken was a look at the damn Spider-code. At the files. At what was there and especially what was missing. The video files from the late-night patrols and investigations the kid had erased. He might have erased those but hadn't thought of adjusting the file names. Never fixed the missing numbers. One glance at those and Tony would have known that something was up.

Instead, he had trusted a pubescent super-powered vigilante.

He was such an idiot.

It was the third day now that he had barricaded himself in his rooms at the Compound. Rhodey had left for D.C. on Wednesday morning and nobody had come to bother Tony for the past days. He had worked well into the evening, but then he didn't need that much sleep. He was fine. Between his office, the lab and his personal rooms he had everything he needed.

Most importantly, he had some me-time. He needed to let go of the bullshit he had to deal with and needed to focus on what was vital. He needed more charges against Ross to stick. It's not that Tony hadn't expected Ross to be on his case, but so far they had at least pretended to each other and everyone else involved that they were on the same side. On the Accords side. Tony had meant to let Ross believe that it was in his own interest to get the Rogues under control. Nobody would ever truly control the Rogues, the last weeks had made that fairly obvious. Least of all him. Definitely not Ross. There had to be a better way to deal with everything though. The first step to fix that was to erode the corrupt cancer in the system. Ross and his cronies. Maybe Tony would get the new technology done in time to have to man shackled with nanites. That would be a personal victory if he ever managed to open up the damn housing unit again to—

**_"Boss, there's a call from Peter Parker's cellphone waiting for you."_**

Tony's hand slipped and the screwdriver he had used to open up the unit rolled over the workbench, leaving loud metallic clicking noises to echo through the lab. He cursed, then spread out the fingers of his right hand and shook off the light cramp that must have surely been the cause for the screwdriver mishap.

_**"Boss?"**_

Tony huffed and send an eye-roll to the ceiling. "Kinda busy here, FRI. I told you I don't want to be disturbed." He needed to stretch himself over most of the table to reach the runaway screwdriver. "Just take a message, Fri."

**_"Sir, my records show very unusual activity on Peter's phone. _**_**I do recommend that you take this call."**_

"Fine." He waved his hands in annoyance. "This better be important, boy. I'm in the middle—"

"Well, well, well, the _great_ Tony Stark. What a pleasure."

The coldness that rolled off the man's voice sent a shiver from Tony's scalp all the way over his back and then down his legs to the very soles of his feet. He had grabbed the edge of his workbench by reflex but it didn't do much to steady him. He didn't recognize the voice but there was only one category of people that sounded like this.

"Where did you get this number?"

"Oh, the phone wasn't all that hard to crack."

Tony went for measured indifference, hoping his voice didn't betray the sheer terror that started to creep into his heart. "You hacked an SP3-10? Gotta say, I'm a little impressed."

"Well..." The man belted out a hearty laugh that didn't sound funny to Tony at all. "Hacked may be overstating my technical skills. I relied on my staff's expertise for this and your boy didn't do all that well with their, well... enhanced interrogation." He laughed again. "Or very well. I guess that depends on one's perspective."

Tony's heart was beating in his throat. This wasn't real. It couldn't be true. This had to be a ploy. There was no way a douche like that could overpower the Spiderling.

"At first I thought we'd be in for a whole night of fun but when my guy pulled out his knives your boy broke so fast, we didn't even get the pleasure to waterboard him. Such a shame. I heard that's one of his daddy's favorites. Isn't it, Stark?"

Tony felt sick. This was about him. Of course it was. But Tony wouldn't bite for amateurishly teasing like that. "Does this conversation have a point or are you just trying to sell a screenplay for a subpar episode of 'Law and Order'? So far, not really hooked."

"Is that right? Not at all distressed that I have your little boy? You know, I did always find your public begging for help in the search of your poor innocent son kinda pathetic. Always thought, you laid it on a bit thick there." The man sneered and laughed and Tony had a sudden vision of murdering that bastard with his own bare hands. Slowly. Painfully slow.

"If I had a penny for every time someone has claimed to have my son I'd... oh wait. I already am a billionaire."

He pulled up the holo-keyboard with a wave of his hand and started typing soundlessly. Location first. He needed to know, where they were.

"I'm starting to feel sorry for your boy, Stark. Maybe I should put you on speaker, so he can hear first hand how little daddy cares for his well being? But I guess he'd already know, wouldn't he? What kind of monster experiments on their own son? I guess that's one reason to have him disappear."

Tony's breath was catching. They had his Spiderboy, didn't they? It couldn't... It was Pete's number so they'd have to have caught him somehow and must think...

"What do you want?"

As soon as he had sent off the command to calculate the phone's location he put in another line of code that activated the camera on Peter's phone.

A warehouse. Empty except for a few cars, a handful of people and... shit. Fucking shit. A small-framed boy huddled on a chair, head bowed down low, arms locked behind his back, feet chained to the floor, a heavy metal chain slung around his torso. His shirt was pulled off and there... Tony's stomach turned. There was quite a lot of blood on the kid. He pulled up the front-facing camera as well, but all Tony could make out were dark shadows. The guy probably had the phone pressed to his ear. His eyes shot back to the camera's shaky feed of the boy in the chair. They actually thought that... that Peter was Tony's son. That... Tony took a few breaths, deep and slow. He felt sick. This was insane. The boy was roughed up as it was, if they were to find out that it wasn't true. That that only had his intern, what would—

"Come on, Stark, no empty threats? No trying to keep me on the phone longer to find out where I am? Not even gonna ask to speak to your boy?"

The dark shadows in front of the camera disappeared and a bald head attached to the hardened face of a textbook criminal flashed up in front of Tony. Scars spread across his face, features pulled in a constant shit-sniffing grimace. Obviously oblivious to Tony's control of the camera's feed, the guy stepped closer to Peter. His dirty hand snaked through the boy's hair, grabbed a fist full of it and pulled his head back. The guy squinted at the phone, found the camera function and then used his other hand to point the phone's back camera right into Peter's face, an open broadcast of the kid's state for Tony's benefit.

"Look at that, Stark! See that?" He tightened his hold of Peter's hair and gave his head a sharp shake. Only a soft whimper escaped Peter's throat. "Why don't you say 'hi' to Daddy, boy?"

The kid's face was bruised. A cut on his right eyebrow had bled over a good portion of his face. Blood that had not quite dried yet. Tear tracks, some smudgy, some had only recently rolled from his lashes. Peter's eyes were almost closed, unfocused. He didn't even seem to register the camera phone that was shoved in his face, only craned his neck, desperate to escape the pull of his hair.

Tony's heart seemed to stop at the sight.

"Pete?" His voice was rough, caught up with more emotion than he had been willing to disclose, but Peter didn't move. Maybe he didn't hear him. Maybe he actively tried to block out everything around him.

The guy gave Peter's head another sharp shake. The kid's featured contorted in pain. "I said, say 'hi' to your Daddy, boy!"

"Take your fucking hands off him!" Tony was seething. How could he keep his cool? How? That asshole was manhandling his Spiderling right in front of him, taunting.

"Da-Dad?" Fresh tears trickled down the boy's cheeks, eyes wildly jumping back and forth, unseeing.

_Oh god..._ "It's... It's Tony. Pete, it's—"

Fuck. Fucking hell. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He reached for his phone that lay discarded on the other end of the workbench. A quick command typed onto the holo-keyboard and he turned on the front-facing camera on his own phone. The kidnapping asshole visibly jumped as Tony's face popped up on Peter's phone screen.

"Give him the damn phone! I want to speak to him!"

The guy tried to quickly duck out of the screen. Pathetic. It took all of Tony's willpower to not let an eye roll give away that he had, in fact, witnessed the man's ridiculous attempt to hide.

"Turn the fucking camera and let me speak to the boy," Tony snarled.

"Oh yeah? Why would I do that?" The guy slowly came back into the center of the frame, apparently convinced that Tony couldn't see him. Idiot hadn't even managed to hide from the camera in the first place.

"You want to make demands of me, you better let me talk to my boy first."

Tony's heart was pounding. He wasn't really in any position to make demands, but he couldn't allow them to have all the power. He had to... He had to catch them off guard somehow to overthrow them. The guy sneered a wet "Fine..." then covered the camera with his other hand and only a few low curses and some rustling told Tony that he was playing with the settings. Tony's own hacked feed from the back camera was still live and all he could do was stare at the shaky video of Peter in that chair until the angle changed completely.

Then the front camera's stream flashed white from sudden overexposure until it quickly focused on the boy. His head had fallen back down, dangling almost lifeless, chin on his chest.

"Pete?" Tony swallowed but there was no getting rid of the tension in his chest. "Pete, you hear me? Try to focus, buddy. It's Tony. I'm right here."

Painfully slow the boy did move after all and brought his head into an upright position. "Mr..." Peter drew a couple of shallow breaths. "Mr. Stark?"

But he still didn't seem to recognize the phone as what it was. He was so out of it. This... this was not good. "Look at me, kid! I'm right here."

Puffy red eyes squinted in the right direction but didn't really see. He pressed his eyes closed before he blinked once, twice and again fresh tears fell from his lashes onto the boy's cheeks, but this time the brown eyes focused on the phone screen in front of him.

"I'm right here, Pete."

The boy's face crumbled but his eyes wouldn't stray from the video feed. "Mr. Stark, I—" A deep sob rolled out of Peter's throat. "Mr. Stark, I'm sorry, I don't—I don't know—I don't know—I... I..."

The desperate plea on the boy's face made Tony's stomach turn. "It's okay, buddy. You're gonna be fine, alright?" Tony tried to nod encouragingly, tried to emanate some form of comfort and strength to help. "Everything will be alright, Pete. I promise."

There was a snort on the other end of the line and Peter's face disappeared from the screen.

"Tut, tut, tut. We'll have to see if you'll be able to keep that promise, _Tony._"

"I'll make you another one. Touch another hair on that boy's head and you're a dead man," Tony spit into the phone's receiver. A quick line of code killed the video he was sending out. Pete's phone was pressed against the man's ear again and as he paced up and down in that otherwise deserted warehouse, Tony could only catch the odd glimpse of Peter shaking in his bonds when the rear camera happened to point in his direction.

"Do you really think you're in any position to make threats, Stark?"

"Not a threat. A promise." A quick command on his keyboard opened up a new projection. The map that displayed FRIDAY's progress on their location. She was singling in on... Istanbul. That... Fuck.

"Oh, Tony, Tony, Tony." A dirty laugh rang in Tony's ear. "Who knew you'd make all this so much more enjoyable?" He laughed again, this time adding an unappealing snort into the mix. "How's your location scouting going? Found us yet? Come on, I know you'll want to try and catch us. Though I can't promise we'll still be here by the time you finally make it, daddy."

"What do you want, asshole?"

"You and your little band of weird misfits have been messing with my supply chain. I'm going to accept a generous offer from you, dear Tony, to make up for my losses."

Tony gritted his teeth to keep himself from reacting to that man's provocations.

"You'll have the blueprints of the arc reactor delivered to us. Building sized as well as the one that fits into your little suit. And how about you throw in a little extra? Bit of an incentive to keep the boy healthy?" The asshole laughed again. "I mean, as healthy as he is now."

He was gonna kill that guy and it would be his pleasure. He wouldn't even use the suit. He'd use his bare hands to cut off his airway, watch the asshole's eyes bulge as his brain was slowly dying from the lack of oxygen and then he would reanimate him just to do it all over and over again.

"Incentive? If you want my suit, have the balls to come out and say it."

"Nah, not gonna bring one of your little programmed Terminators anywhere close to my house. In fact, let me make one thing quite clear: If one of your little toys gets anywhere near us, I'll know. I don't know what kind of trackers you buried in your guinea pig's spine or something, but if I see as much as a blip of your little suit or your fancy Quinjet on my radar, daddy can say bye, bye to his little munchkin. Capisce?"

Tony couldn't hold back his agitation. He should be better than this but he simply wasn't. "Fuck you too, asshole."

The guy just laughed. "I will take the full arsenal of weapons you have stored in your underground bunker in Pennsylvania though."

Urgh, fuck. Tony stayed quiet, desperate to get his emotions into check.

"You know, all those weapons you never sold? Not gonna need them anyway. Might as well give them to me. I like to shower my boys with gifts." A dirty snort shook Tony back to attention. "I'm sure you can relate."

"Sure thing, I'll be happy to deliver them personally and give you a little demonstration on how they work."

"You'll find that your snark is not gonna be all that good for the health of your boy."

"If you touch him, you'll get nothing from me."

"The faster I get my merchandise the less time I have to spent on your kid, Stark."

Tony's breathing was still rugged. He had to start thinking. He had to start working on a plan. "How exactly do you expect me to move multiple truckloads of weapons to you?"

"Oh, you won't move anything. You will leave the door unlocked and I will have my people collect the prize. If the transaction went to my satisfaction, we'll let your boy go."

"You honestly think I'll be stupid enough to agree to that?"

"As things stand, your bargaining position is lacking a little... well, power, Tony." A weak scream from Peter echoed in the background. "I think we'd best go with my plan."

The hair on the back of Tony's neck stood tall. He was gonna throw up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He had to keep a lit on his panic, his pulse was getting out of hand. He couldn't freak out. He had to keep it together.

"You want my stuff and you're not gonna get it until the kid is safe. You will not have a single bullet without reassurances that he's safe!"

"Hm, I'm gonna give you a little bit of time to think about that on and come to the right conclusion, but not too long. I'm not interested in becoming your boy's wet nurse. You will send word by sunset tomorrow or I will have to think of another way to, well... let's say convince you."

As the guy hung up another painful gasp from Peter echoed through the line.

"FRIDAY, I want to know where they are. I want to know right now. What do you have?"

_**"Boss, I'm still decoding the signal. They are using some form of virtual network proxy to hide his location that I cannot decipher. The phone's data on its location services has been hugely corrupted."**_

"Show me."

He looked at the specs she projected in front of him and while he was trying to find the pattern, telling FRIDAY what decodes to try, what methods to use, his thoughts were circling around the bigger problem. How was he going to get to Peter out of there even if he knew where they were? It had been a whole group of people in that warehouse, multiple cars parked just waiting to take off, even if he found that location who was to say they'd still—

"FRI! Analyze the footage from the call. The cars. Are there any license plates on them?"

**_"Positive, Sir. I can make out the license plates on three of the 4 cars in the footage."_**

"Run them, give me everything you can find! Run analysis on the faces from the video feed. How many people are we dealing with?"

He couldn't stand still. This might work, but what if it did? What if he found them. He couldn't get the kid home without—

"Fuck. FRI, I'll... shit. What about the kid's aunt?"

He rubbed a hand across this face. Even if he found them, Peter was not going to come home that night. He was hurt. He'd need to recover even with his healing abilities, even if Tony managed to buy his freedom fast. "We need to send a text that looks like it was sent from Peter's phone. Tell her... fuck." This was bad. This was so bad.

Tony had her pull the kid's text messages to his aunt off the server. He scrolled through a few of them. He'd messaged his aunt whenever he was on his way to the Tower, then on his way home, specifically over the last few weeks. Tony cursed under his breath. The last one had been from that very day, telling her he was off to the lab. The kid had never told his aunt then. He'd never told her, that Tony had kicked him out.

He felt like an ass. He should have never—

This wasn't the time. Peter was counting on him. He had to make this right. Trying for a similar pattern he sent out a message to May Parker telling her in his best impression of the kid's slang that he was going to be staying at the Compound over the weekend for a special project. He added a special hourly rate that Peter would get paid for helping out on Saturday and Sunday, hoping that it would make it less likely for her to object. Otherwise... otherwise he might have to bring her in. There was a chance that he could still keep the kid's Spider powers quiet, but if May Parker were to inquire, there would be no way Tony could keep Peter's disappearance quiet.

An answer came quickly, unhappy about the short notice. Asking Peter for regular updates. That was at least one problem that he had somewhat under control then.

It took him and FRIDAY a few hours to sift through databases and find connections who theses licenses plates were registered for. Faces and the names and details that went with the faces popped up all around him. Tony nodded to himself, carefully studying everything on these people, but it wasn't until 4 am that he finally found more detailed information on the asshole himself. A short profile popped up in front of Tony.

Jordan Sallic, ties to domestic terrorism and international crime. Never been able to be tied to any offense.

Tony's jaw popped as he gritted his teeth heavily. He was going to make him pay for all of this. He was not going to get away with hurting the kid. He would never hurt anyone ever again.

* * *

##

* * *

The sun was still pretty high in the sky above him. It had taken him about an hour to drive to Massachusetts. With the suit, it would have been minutes, but he couldn't risk that. He couldn't spook them, cause he had no idea what these assholes would do if he pushed them into a corner. The location hadn't been easy to find. It's mere existence in the first place and then the specific coordinates, but the details had checked out. Peter's cell phone's location and movement data was almost entirely corrupted, but with the kid's online and text message activity Tony had a rough idea, how many hours had passed since Peter had been taken. The Mount Washington State Forrest on the south-western tip of Massachusetts was definitely in the range of where they could have gone since the kid had disappeared.

Tony had left his car a good mile off the entrance to the hideout. It was still possible that they had registered his arrival, depending on the equipment the bastards were using, but he had little choice. He had wanted to come sooner. He had wanted to come as soon as he had found the location but there had been preparations he had to make. He couldn't just storm in. That was a fail-safe way to get himself killed and the kid along with him.

At sundown, he was supposed to send word that he was willing to open his warehouse to these assholes and he would have to make it clear before then that the only way that was going to happen was if they released Peter to him before that. He would assume the negotiations might find a compromise of them releasing Peter at the same time as he would open his doors to them, but as negotiations went, he didn't have the best lever to use against them. Peter's safety was his first priority. Everything else didn't matter. He found himself not even thinking twice about giving up the blueprints for the arc. He would. Hell, he'd give them the keys to the Tower but not unless he knew that the kid would be safe.

While he had forgone the suit just like the asshole had demanded, he still had a couple of tricks up his sleeve that he would use to protect the kid as best as he could, including the watch that was literally up his sleeve, a handy little gadget that had once before saved his life in Berlin. He'd have to trust his instincts. FRIDAY was on standby with orders to open the doors to the hanger that contained the great majority of the weapons Stark Industries had produced but never sold. He should have never kept them. He should have blown them up somewhere in the desert, get rid of them so his own weapons could never be used against him ever again. But he had made a compromise with the board to store them. Just in case. He had just wanted them to get off his case so he had agreed even though he had known better. And now he was paying the price.

Not until he had seen the boy though. With his own eyes. He wasn't going to play their games, he—

Tony froze. He shot a glance over his shoulder but couldn't see anyone. He had heard something though. Either that or his paranoia was in full swing. Nobody knew he was there. He had not warned the asshole, was just going to force their hand. It would be hard and he'd have to stay strong but it would be the best—

The hair on his back rose. There was someone behind him, slowly getting closer. Tony tried to control his breathing, to keep calm and stay in control of the situation. A flick of his wrist was enough for the Iron Man-style glove to form around his hand. He quickly turned as it did, thruster stretched out in front of him.

"Impressive. That was fast. And you didn't even have to explicitly tell it to assemble?"

His pulse was thundering in his ears. The short newly colored blond hair, the wig, who knew... it didn't disguise her at all. He could only guess that it helped distract people who didn't actually know her, but Tony would recognize Romanoff's face drunk off his ass in a line up next to her genetically identical twins.

His eyes flickered to her left at Barton who had his arms crossed and his signature resting bitch-face popping in full effect. Rogers hung back, which was ridiculous. Did he think someone with his stature would be able to hide behind the Black Widow?

"What is this?" Had this been a trap? "What... what are you doing here?"

He should have brought the fucking suit. He should have brought something to defend himself. This, this had been such a bad—

"Just take a breath, Tony." Natasha didn't move but she had placed herself strategically in front of Rogers and Barton. Why, was a mystery to him. If she thought he'd trust her any more than he did the other two idiots, she was wrong. "We're just here to help."

"Fuck you too, Romanoff."

At least she had the good sense not to try and play this as friendly banter.

"You don't want to go in there on your own. It's too risky."

"Too risky? At least I will only have to watch my front, not my back. Get the fuck out of here." His had was shaking. He could feel it and he was sure they could see it too. It wasn't just the weight of the gauntlet either, not that he would ever admit that. "This... You want to fight this out, we can fight this out, but not... not now. Just... please. Just fuck off."

"This isn't really about protecting your own back though, is it?" She didn't come closer. She didn't even look threatening minus the fact that she was still one of not the deadliest spy on the planet. "It's more about Aiden."

* * *

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_[author's note: Thank you guys for reading and commenting._

_Your feedback has been so great, it really boost my need to share the next chapters of the story with you. _

_A lot of the past two and the upcoming chapters has been written and waiting to be put out for so long, so it's super exciting to see all your reactions, theories and interest of what's coming next and it's so much fun to see how some of you are picking up on the little clues I have tried to subtly scatter over the length of this story. You make this a lot of fun for me to share. Thanks so much for that :)]_


	40. Divide and Conquer - Chapter 40

**Chapter 40 - Divide and Conquer**

His breathing was heavy, not calming down. What had she just said?

"I... I don't—"

"Tony, it's fine. We know. You don't have to—" She took a step towards him and he couldn't help but react. Couldn't help but retreat twice the amount of space. She frowned at him.

"What the hell... what the hell do you want from me?" He had to keep it together. His arm was starting to hurt from the position he held it in, gauntlet aiming at them. He had been prepared for this to be tough, but not that he'd have to deal with them as well.

"Want from you?" She shook her head, clear confusion on her face but Tony wasn't fazed. This was her specialty. "I intercepted most of Sallic's call. We've been surveilling him and his crew for weeks. He's been picking up all the loose ends Rumlow left behind after Lagos. He's the one we were looking for in Brooklyn these past couple of weeks and Steve recognized the boy from your lab. We're here to help."

Tony's jaw had physically dropped. This was... this wasn't just unexpected, this... no. There was no way he could allow them to interfere. If they found out about Peter—

"Is it him? Is it really your son?" Barton shook his head in confusion. "Was he with you all that time? Did you know all this time that—"

"No." He wanted to say it decisively but it came out more like an unsure whisper. "No!" He said again, a little louder. "He's... Peter's an intern."

Rogers stepped up closer at last. "The boy was in your lab."

Tony tried to push down his frustration. "Yeah, the boy was in my lab. That's where we usually keep our interns."

"He does..." Rogers' brow was furrowed. "He does look like you. He could be—"

"Well, he's not!" Tony tried to center himself. He had to stay in control of the situation.

Natasha hadn't moved, she was just watching him. "Why do they think he's your son?"

"How would I know? Sallic also said I experimented on the kid. They want to rile me up, that's it." It wasn't a lie of course. He had never experimented on Peter, but it was a convenient place for him to shut down that narrative, that Peter was anything other than a completely regular teenage boy. "He's... he's Peter Parker. Just..." Tony took a couple of deep breaths, careful not to look away from them now. Careful not to let the lie show. "Just a kid that works for me."

Natasha frowned then turned to Steve who nodded. "I mean, he was working, I guess. Met him only briefly in the lab. I told you he had a kid in there. Just... a little guy. Bit shy."

"Yeah, so... there you go. Nothing to see here. You can..." His arm was straining from being held in the same position, palm still pointedly on them, but he couldn't help his hand dropping more and more from the strain. "You can kindly fuck off now. I... I gotta... This is on me. My... my business. It has nothing to do with you."

The Widow took another step towards him and as panic spiked in him, Tony's arm shot up again, squarely pointed at her.

"Tony, we're here to help."

His veins were flushed with adrenaline, his pulse surging. He didn't have time for this. He didn't have time for any of this. Peter was in there and his safety was more important than anything else right now.

"Your help... I don't want your fucking help. Just... just get out of my way."

"Maybe your boy would appreciate it though?"

"Shut your face, Rogers." His voice was wavering but he didn't care. "You owe me. You owe me for Brooklyn."

Barton snorted. "For setting your spider on us?"

Tony's eyes only flickered shortly to him, then went back to Rogers. "I didn't set him on you. If anything I pulled him off you. If I hadn't shown up, Ross would have had you in a trap. You might have punched your way out of it but it would have come with a hell of a lot of uncomfortable videos on social media of you beating up the NYPD. You owe me."

Rogers didn't move, didn't even look at him.

"You owe me, Capsicle. Not just for that."

The look on Rogers' face was dark. At least Tony wouldn't have to spell it out. He had no interest in basking in the humiliation of the ridiculous level of blind trust he'd had in Rogers.

"Alright, we'll not do that." Natasha was still closest to him. "We'll not be balancing out any personal debts right now. Tony, I get that it irks you that Steve wants Barnes around and that might never go away no matter how many years go by, but we have a criminal network to concentrate on right now."

"You... you know?" Tony's arm dropped, he was going to be sick. Did they all know?

She frowned. "Of course I do."

"He told _you_?" Tony's teeth cut into his lip as he desperately tried to hold back the curses he wanted to fling at Rogers. Of course, he had been the only fool that was purposefully kept out of the loop.

Natasha silently studied him, then turned towards Rogers. "Care to explain?"

The Captain swallowed hard, not meeting her gaze. "It's... it's complicated."

"Fuck you, Rogers." Tony's temper was surging. Just the look on the guy's face, the pinnacle of morality. It made him want to vomit.

"Alright, just to be clear, we are talking about Barnes being sent to murder Howard and Maria Stark, yes?" Natasha had her eyes on Tony and he couldn't help but choke on his own tongue at her casual tone. She nodded to herself. "Alright. At least I haven't lost my edge."

"I'm sorry..." Barton had turned his attention to the Captain as well. "What's happening now?"

"You didn't tell him?" She inclined her head in Tony's direction, her face twitching. "Is this why Siberia escalated? You've waited for Siberia to tell him?"

Tony snorted at that. "Oh, please. He didn't tell me shit. Our dear friend Zemo had a nice video prepared though."

"Fuck's sake, Steve..." She didn't look at him, didn't look at Tony either.

Rogers stepped from one foot to the other. "HYDRA killed them. We were already fighting them." Tony wasn't quite sure what infuriated him more, the fact that Rogers was still trying to justify his bullshit or that he seemed to direct his excuses at Natasha more so than at him. "There was nothing to be gained from dragging up things that are in the past, that are—"

Tony wanted to strangle him. "You gotta be fucking kidding me, Rogers! You gotta be—"

"It doesn't matter." Natasha's tone was decisive. She took one deep breath, then looked up at Tony. "None of that matters right now. Tony, they want to trade the life of that boy for an arsenal that will kill a thousand more. They need to be stopped and you know that you can't do that on your own."

"The hell I can't..."

She didn't move, unfazed by the whispered discussion between Barton and Rogers going on right behind her. "I'd like to remind you of the last time you tried to beat me in hand to hand combat. Sure, they have nothing on me and you've certainly gotten better. Not good enough to punch your way through a whole group of criminals though."

He hated that she was right about that, but that wasn't what was going to happen. "Not planning on punching anyone."

"Wait," her eyes widened. "You were going to hand the weapons over to them?"

"You think I'm going to let them kill the kid?"

She did shake her head at that. "They'll likely kill him anyway, Tony. I don't have to explain to you how hostage situations work."

"They definitely will if I don't give them what they want. It's not like there is a choice here."

Natasha's eyes were only on him, unwavering like it would only be a matter of time till he agreed that he was wrong. "What about all the kids that will die once they have the weapons?"

"FRIDAY is on standby to blow them to Nirvana as soon as Peter is safe. You think I can't ignite my own weapons remotely?"

"You think they don't know that?" She tilted her head, eyes narrowed. "Or at least suspect it? You think they'll ever give the boy to you? They'll send him back to you in pieces until you crack and try everything to save him or at least put him out of his misery."

He had to turn away from her, sick to his stomach, his throat closing up. How could this be happening? How could he have let this happen? Had he learned nothing?

"Tony..." He pulled away as her hand came to rest on his shoulder, but she grabbed him by his arm and spun him around, making him face her. "We'll get him out, okay? It's the only way. You know that. They'll never let him go. But that doesn't matter because we're here to help and we'll get him out."

He rubbed the back of his hand across his face. Maybe she really wasn't wrong. They had already tortured the boy and he was just a boy. People who were willing to do that to a kid... He wasn't going to cry. He was not going to fucking cry.

"Alright." He swallowed hard. Natasha's hand still held him tightly and he couldn't deny that there was something anchoring about it, something that pulled him out of his inner panic as much as he wanted to balk against her standing this close. Something that made him feel less alone in this. "Alright. Let's... let's go then."

She nodded but didn't let go of his arm at last. "What's your plan?"

"I was... I was gonna make Sallic come out of his hole and see what I could negotiate. Was thinking he might at least bring Peter up and have him wait there while they raid my stuff."

"We can still start with that." She was quiet, lost in her thoughts for a moment. "You can draw him out, talk to him. He's a cocky asshole. He might be distracted enough to give us some time so we can sneak in and get the boy."

"No, that..." He had to take a couple of deep breaths. He didn't like this. This was not what he had planned. The point was for them to bring Peter out of that hole, not to go down there and join him. "We can't risk that. They'll hurt him, kill him as soon as they sense that they're ambushed."

She didn't turn, just dipped her head in Rogers' direction. "Steve?"

The Captain cleared his throat, voice heavy but calm. "If our intel is correct, then most of the rooms are underground. The layout really only has the main entrance and a couple of windows to get in. Sallic will probably come up, just to taunt Tony. Just to rub it in. But he won't come out on his own. It should be about 10 of them. He must have sent at least 3 men to Pennsylvania. All of them brawn. He's only got Lexington and Hull for the brainy stuff. They'll have stayed behind and they'll stay down there. He's never gonna bring the kid up here. Way too exposed. Too many ways he could get killed and have the kid pulled out from under him. He'll leave guards to watch the boy. At least two. That leaves two more, that either secure the perimeter or stay down there to guard their stuff or come up to guard him."

"I'll stay here with Tony then." Tony's eyes shot over to Barton. "You two go ahead. We follow when we cleaned up aisle 1."

"I don't need back up with Sallic." He held the man's gaze. "I need the kid to be safe."

Barton shook his head. "You have no suit. No way to protect yourself. If it's you against three of them and they take you out, we'll have them breathe down our necks in there. That can't happen."

"Clint's right." Natasha pulled Tony's attention back to her. "We divide and conquer."

He wanted to argue that he would be just fine without the suit, but they were running out of time. They needed to engage soon and when it came to pure body strength they were far superior to him, that much was true.

Rogers cleared his throat. "If we had an EMP we could kill communications between them. Would give us more time to hit them unawares. Get us in unnoticed. Makes it safer for the boy."

Natasha nodded. "Tony?"

He bit his lip. "It'll disable most of the functionality of my gauntlet and Barton's bow and would kill communication between us as well."

Barton just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I'll eyeball it."

She shot him a look, then her gaze was back on Tony. "We'd need radio silence on our side anyway or they might pick up what's happening faster than we want. How long till the EMP wears off?"

Tony shrugged. "About 20 minutes."

"Alright." She bit her lip. "Can that thing on your hand ensemble despite the EMP?"

"Nope."

"Then you'll stay up here."

He snorted. "I don't think so."

Natasha didn't even blink. "You have no way to defend yourself without the gauntlet."

"Well, neither do they! At least I have a vest."

"Yeah, but I don't care about them dying. And how did that vest work out for you in Afghanistan?"

He swallowed hard, eyes not straying from her face. "So, suddenly I'm oh so delicate? Are we expecting them to have a stash of missiles down there?"

She didn't back away from him. "Suddenly? I heard something about a coma. Do you still go to your physical therapy appointments?"

"Shut up." His breathing was intensifying again.

"We got the boy. Just take care of Sallic."

Oh, he was going to do that. He couldn't wait to get his hands on that bastard.

He handed the EMP over to Barton. They'd have to wait until the asshole had come up but at least it'd also secured Natasha and Rogers an alarm-free smooth entry into the hideout. He waited for 5 minutes like they had agreed. One deep breath, then he stepped out from the behind forest's undergrowth into the open. His fingers were numb even though his heart was racing. Technically that should give him more feeling in his limbs, a greater sense of combat readiness, but either his body or his brain was not cooperating. Maybe both.

The camera's on the building weren't hard to spot. He walked into the middle of the open yard, arms loosely hanging by his side, looked up right into the lense and just waited. They wouldn't outright shoot him. There would be no ransom in it for them if they'd simply kill him. They did let him wait though.

It was about half an hour after he had stepped out in the open, that the door to the building swung open. He hadn't moved at all and he wasn't planning to now. Sallic was flanked by two of his people. Tony had secretly hoped they'd be pulling Peter out with them, just because he might be stupid enough to taunt Tony, antagonize him by dangling the kid right in front of his nose. It would have made an easy target for Hawkeye but alas, Sallic wasn't that much of an idiot after all. He stopped just outside of the door.

"Tony."

"Asshole."

The man flashed a satisfied smile, waving his index finger at Tony. "Tut, tut, you rich people really are raised without proper manners."

"My manners are no concern of yours. Where is the boy?"

"Safely stored. You've taken quite the risk to show your face here. I told you what would happen if you try anything, right? The little dove is not going to like that."

Tony had expected threats against Peter. He tried to keep his breathing leveled and his tone unaffected. As if the prospects of these people putting their hands on his boy wasn't making bile rise in his throat. "You keep your hands off him if you want those weapons."

Sallic just laughed and waved him off as if this was harmless banter between two old friends.

"I assume you're here to negotiate. I'm all ears, Tony. What do you have to offer me?"

Get the boy up here. I want to see him. You hand him over and I'll open those gate of my bunker for you."

The asshole howled with laughter, slapped his thighs in a silly show of arrogance. "That is hilarious. Get him up here and hand him over. You crack me up."

Tony didn't move a single muscle, let the guy do his theatrics. He wouldn't be laughing for long. Sallic did a double-take pretending he just saw the look on Tony's face and gasped hyperbolically.

"Oh, my dear Tony. That wasn't supposed to be a serious suggestion, was it? Oh, no. You'll have to come up with something a little better than that."

With a quick motion, he went for his pocket. Sallic's gorillas reacted right away, pulled up their guns, fingers on the trigger.

Tony's eyebrows shot up as he pulled the flash drive out of his pocket. "Little nervous your boys, Sallic."

The asshole just flashed a smile at him. "Not as nervous as your boy."

He wasn't going to take that bait. He wasn't going to react, just held up the flash drive. "You asked for the arc. I'll give you this. You'll bring up the boy."

Sallic's mask started to crumble. The smile was still plastered on his face but the lines around his eyes, the tension in his body said something very different. "There's no bringing up the boy, Stark. I want my stuff."

"You want those weapons, you give me my boy."

"I can get him up here one piece at a time if that's what you want." The man's eyebrow twitched. Tony was getting to him. He'd get him to lose his cool, that's when they all started to make mistakes.

"No weapons for you if you harm the kid. That's non-negotiable."

"You sure you want to challenge me, Stark? I know you messed with the little guy but I doubt his limbs will regrow."

The guy might have thought himself a pro, but he was escalating this way too fast. Sallic's men were starting to notice the man nerves as well, were starting to shift from one foot to the other, eyes searching the area around them. Tony had a lot more practice with the mask on his own face. No matter how fast his heart was pulsing in his throat, he was focussed. He'd not let up. There was no way for him to check in with the others, no way to know if Barton had already set off the EMP. If Natasha and Rogers had already made their way into the building. He'd have to wait either for them to figure out their comms had gone off or for Hawkeye's first arrow to strike and he could only hope he'd not hit Sallic first.

He was Tony's to deal with.

* * *

#

* * *

The room he was in seemed rather large, maybe because there wasn't much in there other than the chair he was bound to and two muscly fellows launching on a dirty old sofa and a mismatched table. It was way too bright though. It hurt his eyes but he couldn't really keep them open anyway and his senses were all over the place. They struck him in waves. Most of the time they were completely dull. His vision was awful. Their voices were more like distorted white noise in the back of his brain.

The walls around him were bare and cold. It made him painfully aware of how naked he was sitting there just in his pants. He tried not to look down at what they had done to him. It would have been hard to move anyway. The restraints were tight, a heavy chain around his shoulders, another around his middle. There had been a plus side to how much they needed to drug him in order to move him into that hole. He could feel the pressure of the bonds and the fatigue in his bones but at least he couldn't feel the pain of those deep gashes they had cut into his skin to make him talk.

His stomach turned at the thought. He couldn't dwell on that or he'd throw up. Again. With the gag they had pressed back into his mouth, he couldn't risk that. He couldn't dwell on that pain and hopelessness or how he just wanted all of this to stop. He couldn't dwell on the fact that nobody probably even knew where he was. Not that it would make a difference if they did. May had no money to offer for his freedom and there was nobody else. After what he had done, Mr. Stark might actually pay them to keep Peter though. Maybe he would deserve that, but... no. No, Mr. Stark had never been cruel to him. He was a better man than that.

Peter couldn't say how long he had been with these people, or even how long he had been in that room. There were no windows, no clocks. He was passing in and out of consciousness for most of the time. It was hard to even tell what the men were saying if he wasn't imagining them speaking after all. Nothing around him seemed real. Maybe he was tripping off whatever they had shot him up with. He definitely had been down there long enough for May to figure out that he had never come home though. Maybe she'd call Mr. Stark and find out how bad Peter had really screwed up. Maybe he'd tell her everything. Maybe he'd be kind enough not to and just let May keep the memory of that good boy he had been pretending to be for so long.

His eyes were still closed and he flinched as a series of painful shocks went through his body. He wanted to curl into himself and hide from the assault, bracing himself for laughter to hit that the men usually shared when they tormented him but nothing came. He took two deep breaths before he dared to open his eyes.

There was commotion around him. The men had gotten out of their seats but were too far off to have touched him. They fumbled with their mobile radios, trying to get answers from their fellow criminals. The tension in the room seemed quite high all of a sudden and just then another wave rolled through Peter, physically shaking him. His arms were pulled back so tightly he couldn't see it but could swear that he could feel the hair on his arms rise up.

As the door blew off its hinges he had to blink a few times. It had to be a fever dream. It had to be the drugs. It was completely impossible that Captain America had just pushed his way through the door, fighting two of the men at once. It had to be a fever dream-like when they had tortured him and he could have sworn that he had heard his dad's voice. It was like he was strangely detached from his body. Where he usually felt everything all at once when his emotions overran him, he just sat there now. Three of the criminals were in the room now but Peter just sat there, watched as the super-soldier fought his way further into the room, dodging shots aimed at him until he wrangled the gun out of one of their hands and straight up shot the guard in front of him.

Peter felt the air of a deep gasp rush through his nose into his lungs as the Captain turned to him. Panic shot paralyzed him even more than the restraints. Maybe the Rogues knew his secret? Maybe... maybe they _knew_ and were her to take their revenge, after how Peter had challenged them in New York. He had taunted them, electrocuted them. Almost had kept them there long enough for the authorities to get them. The blood in his ears was rushing like a hurricane. He struggled in his bonds, tried to move, just get away when a firm hand clasped his neck.

Peter froze. That hand was very real. He could feel it, squeezing, hurting him. This wasn't a fever dream then.

"I'll kill him," the guy behind him said calmly, his hand sliding to the front where it tightened around Peter's throat. "I could let my buddy here shoot him point-blank, or I could have some fun and smash his head against the concrete floor just hard enough for it to explode like a watermelon in an amateur crash test."

The gun was still in Rogers' hand but his arm was hanging loosely by his side. Peter hadn't even noticed the other guard, gun in hand.

"You wanna kill us? You can try. Not gonna get the little one out here alive if you do."

The room was quiet. None of them were moving. The guy behind him still had his hand on Peter's throat. The other guard stood a few feet away between them and the Captain, his gun pointed at Peter's head. The only commotion came from the hallway outside. It was Natasha Romanoff who walked through the door first, but it was Mr. Stark coming in behind her, wearing nothing more than what looked like his workout clothes that had Peter's heart freeze. He was right there. He had come for him. Peter's breathing was getting out of control, the hand around his neck too tight. His vision was slowly blacking out around the edges.

"Alright, everyone." Mr. Stark's voice was hard, ringing loudly in Peter's ears. "If any of you geniuses want to actually walk out of here, you better take your grubby little hand's off the kid."

"I don't think we'll take our hands off of anything, Stark." The hand around Peter's throat only tightened. He might have whimpered because of the pressure, he couldn't quite tell. All he could think about was how he couldn't breathe. "All of you assholes will back up now and we'll walk out of here all nice and slow."

"You will take your hands off his throat and I'll start to consider even talking to you," Mr. Stark bit out.

Peter's eyes were still somewhat open but his vision was blurring. He was trying to move in his restraints, trying to get away from that hand around his throat but they were too tight.

"Did you hear what I said? Take your hands off my boy!"

The guy behind Peter just laughed, tightened his grip even more. "Try again from the hallway. Maybe I can hear you then."

Peter's lungs were burning, he wanted to cry and fight and duck away all at once but he couldn't do any of these things.

Suddenly, things happened very quickly. Mr. Stark leaped forward. The other guy with the gun turned away from Peter and fired a shot at Mr. Stark. Peter wanted to scream but couldn't with the gag in his mouth and his throat pressed shut. Then his feet left the ground. Chair and all, the man behind Peter slammed him backwards until his head crashed into the concrete. Peter's arms, bound behind the back of the chair, suffered the brunt force of the assault. Then the hand around his throat was gone and just as Peter was about to finally suck in oxygen again, the hand covered his face and slammed his head once again into the concrete. The drugs weren't enough to disguise the pain as his skull met the ground.

He must have blacked out for a moment when he felt the hand on his face once again. This was going to be it. He'd die in a hole somewhere at the hands of these lunatics. But that blow never came. Instead, he felt his lung fill with air. His eyelids were heavy but he forced them open. The gag was gone and Steve Rogers knelt next to him, took one of the chains wrapped around Peter's chest in both hands and tore it apart just like that. The man looked up at Peter's face, his lips moving but there was only static in Peter's ears. Even if he had heard anything, his throat was so raw there was no way he could have responded. Not that he had any strength left to move his lips in the first place. People never really appreciated how hard talking really was. Then Peter's eyes fell shut and he couldn't even find the strength to try and open them again as his mind spiraled into unconsciousness.

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_(author's note: Guys, thank you so much for all the enthusiasm, the theories, and comments! It's incredibly lovely and kind and really makes telling this story even more fun!)_


	41. I Got You - Chapter 41

_(author's note: Guys, I'm such an idiot. I totally fucked up and forgot to copy/paste a part of chapter 37 (Brooklyn) into . Peter's POV from that confrontation is missing and... well... #oops I just noticed about 20 minutes ago._

_It's super embarrassing and I still can't quite believe that this actually happened but first I want to thank the dear Leandrazer for asking if maybe they had missed part of the confrontation between the Rogues and Peter cause they only remembered Tony stepping in. Maybe I should have noticed when a couple of people said they would have loved for Peter to go harder on Rogers, but you know... lol. *facepalm*_

_So, that part of the fight was originally supposed to be the end of chapter 36, which is why on my hard drive that's where it still is. But then I moved it to Chapter 37 and when I published 37 I forgot to go back to 36, copy the end and paste it at the beginning of the next chapter, because either I had a brain freeze or it was like 2 am and I was just too giddy to get it out that I completely forgot._

_Soooo, yeeeeah... I added Peter's missing POV at the beginning of chapter 37, where it was supposed to be and if you want to check it out you should. :P)_

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**Chapter 41 - I Got You**

The sky had almost completely darkened. Mount Washington State Forest to their left obstructed most of the western horizon, but there was a bit of an orange glow that still shone above them, the last light of the day. Tony's skin was hot, almost blazing as he wiped a hand across his face, his body still pumping adrenalin from the fight and worry about the unconscious boy in his arms. He had forgone the seatbelt in his haste to maneuver Peter into the backseat, but the speed at which Natasha was driving down the lonely country road made him question that particular choice. For Peter's sake.

He sat behind the passenger seat, his right arm tightly woven around the boy's torso, holding him close. Peter's head rested on Tony's chest, his body spread halfway across Tony's lap, upper body wrapped in a blanket with his legs elevated on the other two seats. Tony awkwardly fumbled around with the seat belt all the while his arm held Peter close, then the buckle slipped into the lock with a metallic click. That was better. Safer. He pulled the boy a bit closer, careful not to hit any of the bruises or the chaffed skin around his arms.

Peter's skin was the exact opposite of Tony's, slick with cold sweat. The A/C in the car was working overtime and the icy stream of air that blasted into the back probably wasn't helping.

"Turn down the A/C, will you," he said quietly, but Natasha had heard and looked away from the road into the review mirror. Her hand shot up to adjust it just enough so she could see Tony's reflection.

"It's almost 90 degrees in here."

"He's shivering, Nat. It's blasting out of those vents as if we were driving through a fucking blizzard."

She didn't argue, changed the A/C to manual and turned the intensity almost all the way down.

"Pete, come on," Tony whispered. "Can you hear me? I need you to wake up, buddy."

The kid's face was puffy and swollen around the wounds above his eye and on his jaw where the skin had been broken where the kidnappers had struck him and possibly the torture methods they had put the kid through. There were marks on his cheeks where they had pulled the ties holding the gag so tightly that they cut into his skin. From this angle, Tony couldn't see the wounds on Peter's neck, where they had injected who-knew-what into his system to keep him weak and manageable, but he knew they were there. He had seen the distinct markings when Rogers had carried the boy from the room, wrapped in that blanket, his head swaying on the Captain's shoulder, exposing the bloodshot round injection sites on his neck.

He had wanted to take the boy out of Rogers' arms the second he saw them, but his muscles were positively shaking with exhaustion and adrenaline and Rogers had insisted. Peter's weight was nothing to the super-soldier after all. They didn't say a word to each other while they climbed back up to the surface. Outside in the open yard, Rogers carefully put the boy down, sitting on the grass his torso reclined against Tony. Not near the entrance, not where the bodies of Sallic and his two minions lay. On the other side of the yard, in the shade of the trees sheltered from the low but hot afternoon sun. Tony had pressed his keys into the Captain's hand and he was off to retrieve the car while Tony had held the kid close, tried to rouse him from unconsciousness. They had to leave fast. Peter needed help.

Natasha decided that she would drive them and Tony didn't see a point to argue with her. Like this, he could at least give Peter his full attention. They left Rogers and Barton behind to handle the clean up and sped off back towards the Compound.

"What about Pennsylvania?" She didn't look at him, her eyes on the narrow road ahead.

"FRI, is Tyler Hill, PA, dealt with?" Her orders had been clear.

**_"Boss, detonation went as projected. The security partitions sustained minor damages. The targets were neutralized and _**_**5% of the inventory was lost in the process. Pennsylvania State Police was informed of a break-in that triggered the defense installation."**_

Natasha's glanced at the head-up display, then at Tony through the mirror. "You have your AI installed in the car?"

"Cause I do."

She shook her head. "Why am I even driving?"

"Because people freak out when nobody's sitting in either of the front seats."

"Please tell me that's not a realization that came to you through trial and error."

He ignored her teasing. This wasn't the time for light-hearted chatter.

"What happened with Sallic?"

Tony sucked in a lung full of air. "They got nervous when they figured out that their comms were down. Barton went for the two minions first, then for Sallic."

"What all three of them? Did they just stand there waiting to be shot?"

That wasn't quite what had happened. "There was enough confusion for him to get the other two men quickly. Sallic... I made sure Sallic didn't get away."

Tony had lunged for the asshole. He might have been taller than him but he'd need more that that to intimidate Tony. A well-placed kick to his stomach then his throat had the asshole hunched over. Tony was fast to get his hands on the man, to see his fist smash into Sallic's face. The asshole tried to fight back but Tony had placed his first two assault well enough to disorient the guy. It took a knee to Tony's stomach for him to pull back from the pain. He was almost disappointed when Barton's third arrow had brought the fight to a fast end.

He looked down at the boy in his arm now, anger still burning in his veins. Not anger. Cold hate.

"He's gonna be fine, Tony."

He didn't look up at Natasha's words, kept his eyes down and struggled to keep a lit on his breathing. This was on him. He had pushed the boy out.

"I need you to pull yourself together, Stark." She said sharply. "You're white as a sheet. You can't keel over right now."

"I'm not." He pressed out through gritted teeth.

"Alright then." She cleared her throat. "Stating the obvious here, but you need to get his blood work done asap."

"I know." Of course, he knew. He could have any kind of mixed drug cocktail in his system, eating him from the inside.

"Tony, I'm talking DNA." He did look up at that and found her eyes shifting back and forth between Tony's reflection in the review mirror and the road ahead. "I know, you don't want to hear that right now but they were very sure that they knew who he is. There must be a reason why they picked him, intern or not. He's not the only intern that works at SI who might look a bit like you. Though he does... he does kinda look a lot like you." She tried to catch his eye in the review mirror but he wasn't interested in her conspiracy theories. "But there must be another reason why they thought... why they thought that the boy is your son. If there is any chance that—"

"There isn't," he bit out. He shook his head, eyes back on Peter. One of his hands softly ran through the boy's hair, across his temples hoping to coax him back to consciousness.

"Why would they think that the kid is Aiden if—"

"Stop. Romanoff, just stop." Tony's eyes burned not just with sleep deprivation but with emotion as he stared at her. "Please, just stop. You don't even know what you're saying. It's not him. I'd know, alright? I'd know!"

Natasha blinked at him a couple of times before her eyes were back on the road and she was visibly biting her tongue. Those people were idiots, that was all. They witnessed a kid who walked in and out of the Tower a few times a week, probably found out that he was working in Tony's own lab and apparently came to the conclusion that the only boy that Tony could tolerate in his space like that would have to be... would have to be his son. Because who else could Tony Stark learn to— He shoved the thought aside and rubbed a hand across his face, the other arm still clutching Peter tightly. The kid would be fine. He had to be.

With a deep exhale, he threw his head back against the headrest and shot a quick look out of the window. They were just about to his the main road going west towards New York. Just then Natasha slowed down at the intersection and made a right turn. A turn the east.

"What are you doing, Nat? That's the wrong direction!"

She shook her head once, eyes firmly on the road. "There's a good emergency room in Great Barrington, that's maybe 15 minutes from here."

"What... no! No, we can't go to a hospital! Turn around! We need to go to the Compound!"

Her eyes met his in the review mirror. "Tony, it's more than an hour's drive to the Compound. We have no idea what they shot him up with. They slammed his head into the concrete floor and those cuts on his chest. He needs medical attention and fast. I know the resources at the Compound are far superior but he needs help now."

"We can't— Turn around. Nat, turn around!" As she opened her mouth to argue again, he threw caution to the wind. "Peter is the Spiderling. We can't bring him to a regular hospital. They can't help him. They can't know! He needs Helen!"

Natasha stared at him for a moment, before she cursed and pulled the car onto the gravel next to the lane. She hit the breaks hard in the process and Tony's arms tightened around Peter. That seat belt had been a good idea.

"Fucking hell, Tony!" she banged her hands on the steering wheel and craned her neck as she checked for traffic, then pulled the car around, back onto the road, now driving west. "You said he's your intern! And Steve, Steve said he—"

"He is," Tony bit back. "He is my intern."

"I don't— Urgh! God, this is a fucking mess!"

Tony swallowed hard, eyes back on Peter, whose breathing was still shallow, his skin refusing to warm up and Tony made a point to pull the blanket over his exposed arm as well. "I made him take the internship so I could keep an eye on him. It was just to keep an eye on him."

Natasha took a few breaths, stayed quiet for a few minutes, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

"You've been doing a little more than just keeping an eye on him," she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Her tone stung him. Like she thought she had deduced something that he didn't want to see and Tony could imagine a whole string of ideas that Natasha might thought she was deducing.

"Stop analyzing this, Nat. I get what it looks like."

"He grew on you. That's not a crime."

Tony bit his lip. "It's not like—" and gave his head a small shake. "I just wanted to make sure he'd be safe. I— He went out there dressed in a polyester onesie trying to help people and it almost got him killed."

Natasha blew out a deep exhale, eyes on the road. "God, when you said that Spider-Man's just a kid, I thought you meant he was _young_ not that he's actually a minor!"

A shaky hand back in Peter's hair, Tony's thumb drew slow circles across his temple. "I just... I was just trying to keep him safe."

This naively positive kid, who had turned up on his doorstep, bleeding out right there on his balcony the same day he had singlehandedly saved the lives of countless New Yorkers. He had tried to save the kid from himself and then... and then he had fucked it all up. Had severed his ties to him. Idiot. Fucking asshole. The boy had overstepped, had... had made a mistake, not listened to him, yes. But instead of helping him, letting him learn and grow he had pushed him out into the cold because his ego was bruised. Barred him from the one thing that might have kept him safe, that he had built to protect the boy. In the end, Tony had not been able to protect him from the most predictable danger of them all. The sheer association with Tony had put him in jeopardy.

"I took his suit away." Tony bit the inside of his cheeks so hard it stung but he relished in the little shots of pain. "After... after he went for Cap last week, I... I took the suit and I told him he was done, that I... that I would turn him in if he... that—"

"Do you really need me to tell you, that this isn't on you, Tony? You know that it's not. The suit wouldn't have been any help to him in this."

"They must have ambushed him, drugged him. With the suit, they'd have never been able to—"

"If he would have even been wearing it at the time. You don't even know that he would have."

"I pushed him out. Left him alone to deal with everything on his own. I'm such an—"

"Tony!"

He shut up, absolutely avoiding to look at her.

"He got taken. It likely would have happened either way."

Tony shook his head. It didn't matter. The details didn't matter. He should have been there for him. He should have cautioned the boy, prepped him better. He had promised to have the kid's back and when he had fucked up once, Tony had just dropped him like an asshole.

"Tony..."

"I heard you."

Natasha sighed but didn't argue her point, just drove on in silence. She wasn't done yet though, he could tell before she even spoke up again.

"You took the suit because he went for Steve? He went for him without you... that takes some guts."

Tony sniffed out a dry laugh. "Guts, huh? It was stupid and reckless."

"And loyal. And honorable that he was standing up for you."

Tony shook his head.

"How did he find out?" He arched his brows at her, but she didn't look into the mirror as she clarified. "About Siberia?" Her jaw was working, waiting for the right words to come to her, her eyes still on the street. "Steve didn't tell us any details. Nothing much at all until this week. Just that there was a fight. You're worse than him. You'd never spill this if you could help it."

His hand was still in the boy's hair, slowly rubbing soothing circles into his skin, careful to avoid any bruises. Maybe he should have said something. Maybe he could have stopped this.

"He _accidentally_ hacked my private server and found the footage of the fight that my suit had recorded."

"Shit, he made it onto your server?" Her eyes were wide, eyebrows drawn up high. "That's pretty—"

"If you're gonna say impressive, I'll throw something."

She shrugged. "What would you call it?"

"Disrespectful. Illegal. Deceitful. Offensive." Tony bit his lip and pulled the kid a little closer. "Fucking impressive."

"What you're saying is he saw that footage of the fight and went straight for Steve? Must be quite the footage."

"I wouldn't know."

"You never watched it?"

"Did I watch the footage of the guy who was supposed to be my teammate lie to me and then almost beat me to death? No, I didn't watch that." If she was trying to distract him from the kid by winding him up about Siberia and Rogers, he had to say, it was working.

"You really think he'd do that on purpose? That he would try to kill you?"

Tony shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"I think it does. I think you guys might come back from one of those scenarios, not so much the one where he actively tries to kill you."

"He had me pinned to the ground and smashed his shield into me so hard that it shattered my sternum and fractured several vertebras so severely that they didn't know if the swelling in my neck would paralyze me first and then cut off the oxygen to my brain or the other way around. You really think that's something our loving working relationship can come back from?"

Natasha stayed quiet, eyes not on him but the road. He already regretted saying anything. It didn't matter. It was over.

"It's true then, what the boy said? About your coma?"

He swallowed hard, eyes back on Peter. "Does that matter now?"

"It matters to me." Her tone. Her fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Tony couldn't shake the feeling that she might actually mean that. He had to remind himself that Natasha Romanoff could make anyone believe anything she'd want them to believe. "Steve. He was supposed to tell you. Months ago, years... 2 years ago."

Tony pulled his eyes away from the kid and looked up at her, but Natasha was still staring forward.

"Two years? You've known for _two years_?"

She shook her head, teeth pressed tightly together. "I thought you knew. I thought he told you. I thought that's why you were fighting all the time."

"Well, you thought wrong."

"I'm sorry, Tony. I truly am." He did find her eyes evenly on him in the review mirror at that. "I was sure that he would tell you otherwise I would have."

Tony turned away from her glance, teeth grazing his lower lip. "Why would he? He never trusted me. Nothing I did was ever enough for Steve. It was like being on a team with a stronger, prettier reincarnation of my father. How was that ever—" He bit his tongue. He had to shut up. None of that mattered now. It was done. His attention should be on the boy in his arms. He frowned down at the kid's face. Peter's eyes seemed to be moving behind his closed lids.

"He's not Howard. For all his faults Steve—"

"Pete?"

She fell silent, thankfully, because there was more movement in the kid's face, a twitch of his lip, almost a frown on his forehead. "Pete, come on. Open your eyes, kid. Come on, now."

The boy's lashes fluttered against his cheeks and then his eyes did open. Tony's breath caught as the boy looked right at him.

"You're alright, Pete. You're safe. We're getting you to the Compound."

Peter opened his mouth, but not a single sound came over his lips.

"It's alright. You don't have to talk. It's— Hey... hey, Pete... Pete, stay with me." The kid blinked again, slowly, like his eyelids were just too heavy for him to keep them open. "Come on, buddy."

Tony tapped his fingers softly against the boy's cheek, fighting for his attention but he wasn't sure if Peter had even recognized that he was looking at a person, let alone Tony. The kid's whole body now stirred in his arms, still strong and difficult for him to hold onto. Peter drew his knees closer to his chest, slowly convulsing around his middle. Tony tried to keep the blanket wrapped around him, keep him warm and safe, but he didn't want to hold him too tightly. He'd only seen a gimps of what lay underneath that blanket. Of what they had done to the kid. Just the thought made Tony's stomach turn. This wasn't the time. This wasn't about him. Peter had to be in pain and he had to help, had to do something. The kid turned his face towards Tony's chest and buried himself into his shirt. His own pulse was a mess, but Tony tried to keep his breathing calm, to keep his head clear. He carefully tried to uncurl Peter, have him look at him.

"You need to fight it, Pete. You need to stay awake. Come one, buddy." He just couldn't keep the despair out of his voice.

A low groan was all the kid managed in response if it even was in response to Tony. He needed Peter to be awake, preferably talking. There was a giant bump on the back of his head that most likely had come with a severe concussion. He needed to stay conscious. Plus, these assholes might have told him something about whatever they had shot him up with. Maybe Helen would be able to help him faster if they knew more. And if the boy would fall unconscious again, what if... what if he never—

Peter took in a couple of sharp breaths then opened his eyes again, rapidly blinking but now his eyes moved back and forth, looking.

"I'm right here, kid. I got you."

The boy did look at him. He did see him. There was no rhythm to the way air was rushing in and out of his throat, he just panted erratically, then his hand flew up and grabbed the front of Tony's shirt. Tony's own hand reached for Peter's, squeezing it.

"I'm right here, Pete. You're gonna be okay!"

Peter moved his head from side to side in a bit of a shake but ended on a small nod, eyes on Tony through it all. Tony's hand slowly combed through the boy's hair, hoping to soothe his senses.

"Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?" The light was almost steadily fading but the kid's big brown eyes were shining bright with tears. "What hurts the most, Pete? Arms? Ribs? Your head? The... erm... your chest? Pete?"

Tony watched helplessly as the boy fought against exhaustion and the drugs that were still running through his system, fought to keep his eyes open but after less than a minute of consciousness, his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out in Tony's arms.

"Just talk to him, Tony." He couldn't even bear to look up at Natasha. "He might hear. Just keep talking."

He repositioned Peter in his arms, pulled him closer to his chest again, his hold tight on the small frame of the boy. He could practically feel Natasha's eyes on him, watching him, but that didn't matter now. Only Peter mattered now.

"It's alright. You're gonna be fine, kid. Just fine. You're safe now." His voice was low, heart still beating at a crazy rhythm in his chest. "I'm right here, Pete. It's gonna be okay."

Peter's lashes twitched from time to time but he didn't open his eyes again. Tony's focus was only on the boy, studying every little move he made, only glancing outside occasionally to check where they were, how much longer it would take to get to the Compound. To get Peter help. Maybe he should have called a suit, flown them out. But that was everything but a safe option to move the unconscious boy. The added threat of them popping up on Ross' radar was not to be underestimated either. So all Tony could do now, was sit there and hope.

Helen and two nurses were waiting for them as their car rolled up in front of the Compound. The core team. He had called Helen, had asked her for only the essential personal. He did trust her to screen her staff but the fewer people knew the better. The two nurses helped him to maneuver Peter onto a stretcher and rolled him right into the building towards the medical wing. Their fast steps echoed through the corridor. Helen was next to him, walking alongside him, listening to every single word of his summery.

"They slammed his head against the concrete. He's bound to have a concussion. There are also the... the wounds on his chest and... and I'm not sure about everything. I know... I know they tortured him. Tried to get information out of him, but I'm worried about whatever they shot him up with most." He swallowed hard, his hand still clasping Peter's wrist. There was no way to know. "His metabolism is enhanced, probably faster than Rogers'. They had to have hit him with a whole lot of doses to keep him sedated or at least in check."

"How enhanced are we talking?" Helen was right next to him, keeping up with his fast steps.

"I... I don't really know all the physical details. He can stick to things, heals fast." His hand tightened around the boy's wrist. He did heal fast. He would... he should be okay, right? He could get through this.

"Stick to things?" She shot a glance at the boy spread out on the stretcher, then at Tony.

"A spider bit him. He's manifested some... some spider-like characteristics since."

"He's the Spider-Man?"

"Yes." He swallowed hard. "Nobody knows, Helen. Nobody can know." He had promised to keep this to himself and now he was telling people left and right, but what else was he supposed to do?

"I understand." She grabbed Tony by the arm and stopped him from following the stretcher any further, forced him to let go of Peter's hand. "You can't come in there."

Tony shook his head, eyes on the stretcher until the doors closed in front of him. "I have to. I... I promised him I'd stay with him. That he'd be safe. I have to—"

"And he is safe with us. You kept your promise. You're here. We'll do everything for him that we can, Tony." She pulled on his arm so he would turn towards her. "He's in the best hands, you know that. You need to let us work."

Tony shook his head. "I can... I can help. I... I know him... more than anyone. I can—"

"That's exactly why you need to stay out that room. We'll figure out what they injected him with, we'll treat his wounds. Check for brain bleeds, the concussion. You can see him as soon as we're done. If we have any questions, if anything comes up—"

"No! It might be too late until you notice. I know him, Helen. I paid for that fucking medical wing, you can't—"

"Tony!" Natasha had followed them after all. She grabbed him now, the hold on his arm harder than Helen's had been. "You're keeping them from helping the boy. Let them work."

"I..." he turned towards the Widow, ready to fight her on this as well, but her eyes were hard on him, mind made up. He shook his head. "If he... I need to be there if he... if he..."

"They'll take care of him, Tony." Natasha's voice was not without sympathy and for some reason that made things worse. "Just let them do their job."

The light drift from the opening doors washed over him as Helen stepped into the treatment room. Tony turned back around, wanted to go after her, but Natasha's hold on him was still tight. His eyes fell onto the boy. They had taken off the blanket. Tony's throat closed as he took in the marks all across the kid's chest. Red markings, deep cuts strategically placed to cause the maximum amount of pain, crusted over with dark blood. He gasped for air, desperate to keep it together. There was almost a sense of relief as the doors closed in front of him and he didn't have to look at it any longer. Relief born out of selfishness.

"Come on, Tony." She tugged on his arm, tried to make him walk away with her. "Come with me."

His limbs were numb but his mind was still running in overdrive. This was on him. They did that to the kid, because of him.

Natasha dragged him just a few doors down the hall, hand still tight around his wrist. She closed the door behind them and pushed him onto the steel bench set up for examinations.

"What are you doing?"

"There's a gash on your head and what looks like a graze wound on your left arm. Take your shirt off."

"Er, no. You take your shirt off." He shook his head at her as she was shuffling through the different drawers, picking out different medical supplies. "If this is your strategy to distract me from—"

Natasha turned, clutching a small hand-mirror that she had pulled from one of the desks and held it up to Tony's face. There really was a large gash on his forehead. He couldn't even remember where that had come from. Had one of them struck him in the head? Now that she had mentioned it, there definitely was a low-key tingling on his upper arm as well, stretching up to his shoulder. At least one of those assholes had shot at him and more than once. He had thought that he had ducked away in time though. Tony sighed. Natasha was an expert at this. He might as well take advantage of that. He pulled up the hem of the shirt and carefully worked the fabric over his head.

He groaned, now that he was aware that he should be in pain, his body was happy to comply. "Damn, maybe you should have just cut it aw- What?"

Natasha stared at him, lips pressed tightly together. "What the hell is that?"

She pointed the mirror she was still holding at his chest and Tony looked down. There was a single bullet lodged in the bulletproof vest he was wearing underneath his clothes.

"Are you fucking kidding me? When did you get shot?" She walked around him, looking for more injuries on him.

"I... I don't really remember. I guess... I guess maybe when I first came down to the corridor or... or I mean the one guy shot at me when I tried to get to Peter but, I didn't think— I mean I ducked."

She shot him a glance, then carefully helped him to get the vest off. He winced at the pain as the fabric was pulled away. He hadn't felt any of it before, the compression of the vest had kept his nerve ends from contracting. But now that the wound was out in the open, now that he saw the bright red blotch on his chest the pain was registering. The bullet hadn't pierced the vest but left some considerable blunt force trauma and a black spot in the middle of the impact, where the heat of the bullet's impact had literally burned his skin. Tony grimaced. Sure he'd prefer not being shot at all but considering the circumstances, considering the condition the kid was in, this was nothing.

Natasha stood in front of him, frozen in her preparations, an unreadable expression on her face. Tony quickly checked, slightly freaked out that he had some other hidden deadly wound he wasn't aware of. But no, other than a few shallow cuts on his arms from the fight, his chest looked completely normal. _Oh._

"Oh. Yeah." He shrugged and bit his lip at the sting of the movement. Helen and the cradle had done quite the impressive renovation on his chest. "I guess that's new."

Natasha didn't say anything, just sat down on a stool in front of Tony and started to clean the gash on his forehead. She had moved on from his head to his arm when she spoke up again.

"Helen did that?"

He didn't have to ask. It was clear what she was referring to. He gave a short nod.

"That's quite an invasive procedure."

"Are you asking if I had Helen do cosmetic surgery on my scars?" Tony huffed dryly. "It's window dressing if you factor in how she had to completely remodel my sternum."

Natasha's hands froze for a moment, then dabbed along the wound on his arm.

"I heard from Clint."

His eyes shot up at her. "They done already?"

"No... no. Should be very soon though." Her face was drawn in concentration, eyes still on the graze on his arm as she taped a dressing soaked in iodine ointment onto his arm. "This shouldn't need stitches. Change it every day, air it out, make sure you keep it clean.

"Nat? What did Barton want?"

She hesitated for a moment, then pulled out her phone. "They cleaned out that hide hole. Quickly looked through things before they'll put a match to anything that could be traced back to us. Clint looked through some of the recent files on the hard drives they found."

She looked up at Tony at last and pressed her phone into his hand. Seemed like Barton had sent her some photos of said files.

"They ran the kid's blood. That layout, I know that system. It's what they use in the larger labs that the government works with. We did suspect that Sallic had ties to people in the force or the military. He's been too efficient not to."

Tony's blood froze as he zoomed in on the document.

_Ran analysis. DNA Mutation confirmed._

He took a deep breath. It didn't matter now. It didn't matter that they knew. They were dead. Except for whoever had run the sample but unless they could tie it to Peter... His pulse was racing as he was searching for any mention of the kid's name.

"That's not... Tony, that's not all." She reached for the screen, swiped a couple of times to the right. "They had a tunnel open on one of the laptops, connected to servers of a few of the major US police departments. They ran the boy's prints a well."

She pointed at a single line on the document that Barton had highlighted on the photo he had sent.

_Sample match: Aiden Elliot Stark_

Tony blinked at the line a couple of times, but no matter how often he tried to clear his vision, the words on the picture stayed the same. It wasn't possible. It simply wasn't.

"That... they must have faked this. It's... it's impossible." His voice was weak but there was no point in even pretending that this didn't cut him down to his very core. "Photoshopped or... or they cheated the system to get to me, something—"

"Tony, just breathe, alright." Her hands were on both his lower arms now, like she was trying to hold him in place. He wasn't going anywhere though. He couldn't even feel his legs. "This is... we can find out if this is true. We can check it out."

He shook his head. "It's impossible. Peter... Peter is older than Aiden. He has a family, parents, it's... it's impossible."

"Maybe it's time to look into that family of his then."

This was ridiculous. It was such an obvious attempt by these assholes to get more out of Tony for this whole kidnapping routine. Anything else would just be so unlikely. The chance that his son would—

Tony shook the thought from his head. "The... the parents died some time ago." There was a sudden wave of nausea that rolled through him.

Her eyebrows shot up. "That's convenient."

"He lives with his aunt." Tony took a deep breath. There was no way. "She knows he works for me. She'd never let him come and work for me, ever, if she knew that—"

"You do have Aiden's DNA on record, don't you? His prints? Didn't you hacked all that from the LAPD?"

He gave her a side-eye glance. "How the hell do you know that?"

"Does it matter? Just test it. Run the DNA and then you'll know."

"I can't just..." His breathing hitched. It was just a ploy. Just a trick. Impossible to be true. He knew that, but he couldn't help that spark of hope ignite in him. Rationally there was no way for Peter to be Aiden but hope and pain didn't do rational. He wished that they hadn't gotten rid of these assholes already. He wanted to strangle them for playing with his loss like that. For opening up these shallow wounds. For putting him in a position where he would have to test his intern's DNA just so he could confirm the painful certainty that his son was lost to him.

"Fine." He didn't look at her, just got up from his spot on the examination table, his legs shaking underneath him. "Fine. I'll check it out."

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(author's note: I just had this sitting ready to go and I'm terrible with patience so I decided to just post it ;) Don't get used to the fast pace though! ;D )


	42. Emergency Contact - Chapter 42

**Chapter 42 - Emergency Contact**

The afternoon was quiet. Still a little early for rush hour traffic to set in, it was smooth sailing down the Pacific Coast Highway into Santa Monica. There were no words spoken between them, just the constant rush of white noise filled the car as they were driving towards the city. Tony tried to sit still, tried to keep his heartbeat low and his nerves in check, but there was no denying that if there ever was a moment when a man was justified to freak out a little, then this was it.

"How much longer?" His throat was dry. At least with Pepper, he didn't have to pretend that he wasn't nervous.

"Another 10 minutes."

She didn't really look at him, just pushed a bottle of water into his hands but he couldn't bring himself to drink. His stomach was not cooperating and he wasn't going to risk putting anything into his system at that point. The icy glass in his hands was numbing though and he relished in the chills that it sent down his arms.

She placed her hand on his arm, trying to squeeze some life into him. "Just breath."

"I... I'm not sure if I can do this, Pep."

She did look up to him at that. "You're the strongest person I know, Tony."

He snorted. "No, I'm not. _You're_ the strongest person you know. Hell, Happy is a stronger person than me." She didn't laugh though. Her eyes were on his face and he felt his own facade drop. The need to joke the tension away just faded and left him with nothing more than doubt and anxiety. "I don't even know where to begin with this, Pep. What to do or say or—"

She held on tight to his arm. "I'm right here with you. You're not on your own."

He took a deep breath and let himself fall back against the seat's backrest, slowly blowing out the air, hoping to combat his nausea. The remaining 10 minutes felt more like 30, until Happy finally pulled into the parking lot. He drove them straight to the entrance. This was the time for him to at least pretend that he had this.

They'd had a deal. He had promised he'd be there if she really needed him and he was not gonna back out of it, no matter how much all of this was not what he had wanted. At all. It didn't matter now. What was done, was done. But what he was actually slightly miffed about was that she had the hospital call him. She had always been a straight shooter, no middle man crap. Well, breakups changed people. Or so they said. You'd have to be in a relationship to break up and he was actively trying to avoid those.

Pepper was right behind him as he walked up to the hospital's reception desk, shoulder's pulled back.

"Kelly," he blurted out without as much as a hello.

The nurse made an effort not to roll her eyes at him. He could tell that much. "Good afternoon, Sir. I will need the full name of the person you are looking for."

"Aileen Kelly. She... I got a call. From one of your staff."

"And your relationship to Miss Kelly is?"

He swallowed hard. He wouldn't let his voice waver now. "I'm the father."

The lady looked up at him. "You're Miss Kelly's—"

"No! Fuck's sake, she's pregnant. I'm the baby's father."

Pepper's hands were on him, pulled him back from the reception desk.

"Mr. Stark was put down as Miss Kelly's emergency contact. We got a call from one of your staff about 45 minutes ago and were asked to come to the hospital."

The lady behind the desk pulled her eyebrows up as Pepper was addressing her. "And you would be?"

Pepper didn't even blink, only inclined her head in Tony's direction. "I'm _his_ emergency contact. Nurse Clarissa Kain is the person who contacted us."

Tony wanted to push forward, demand faster answers but Pepper held him back. The lady, nurse Ronda by her name tag, picked up the phone in front of her.

"Yes, I have a Mr. Stark here who—" She frowned then gave a short nod before she hung up the phone just a few seconds later. "Mr. Stark, you will need to go to level 3. Elevators are to your left. The maternity ward will be on the right when you step out of the elevator on level 3."

He felt himself nod and mumbled a low "thank you" before both he and Pepper made their way to the elevators. This whole thing was not agreeing with his stomach. He didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl. He hadn't... he hadn't wanted to know either. Kept his distance. Aileen wanted this and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd just have to live with how things were. With what she had decided.

They had barely made it through the door of the maternity wing when nurse Clarissa came towards them.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Stark." She nodded at Pepper.

Tony's hands were sweating. "What's going on? Was... was there a problem?"

"If you'd just follow me real quick."

She let them out of the hallway into a private room. For a moment a shallow wave of panic had run down his spine at the thought that Pepper might let him walk in there on his own, but she was just behind, by his side just like she had promised she would be. That didn't mean that he didn't stop in his tracks all the same just as he had entered the room and saw the little baby bed that was pushed into the far corner. Pepper softly pushed him another step into the room so she could close the door behind them.

"Miss Kelly gave birth to a baby boy early this morning. She didn't have a very extended labor period but—"

"Wait, it..." Tony cleared his throat. His voice sounded way too shallow compared to his usually aloof tone. "The... the baby is a boy?"

"Yes, Sir. A healthy little boy."

Tony nodded. "That... okay. That's good." He shook his head. "Not that a girl would have been bad, I'm just saying it—"

"Mr. Stark, unfortunately, there were complications when Miss Kelly was resting after the delivery. She did not respond well to the medication that is routinely administered to assist with blood coagulation and—"

"Let me just..." Tony crossed his arms, mostly trying not to stare at that little crib in the corner, that he was almost entirely sure was empty anyway. _Complications_ was hospital talk for lots of pricey procedures and with his stomach queasy as it was with the situation itself and the mental image of a baby shooting out of places that he didn't really want to picture, he really didn't think he could handle all that medical talk and did he just hear the baby make a noise? He couldn't quite tear his eyes away from the crib. "It's alright. I told her I would... well, that I would help out. I know, all these medical stuff can be expensive. It's not a problem. I assume there are some forms I will have to fill out?"

The nurse cleared her throat. "Yes, Sir. There... there are some forms. However, let me just explain the incident. As one of those clots traveled to her brain and—"

"We really don't need to know... all... all that. Honestly, it's alright." The baby was definitely making a noise, not crying but... babbling? "I don't need the rundown. Let me just sign whatever I have to sign and we just get it over with."

He finally shook himself back to attention and focused on the nurse again who was actually looking at Pepper now before she turned back to him.

He took a deep breath. "Seriously, you don't have to sell me on how thoroughly you worked to justify the price tag. I get that this is all expensive. We're in Santa Monica after all. Just get me those forms. And shouldn't someone look after the baby? It's making a noise. Surely, someone..." Again, he shook his head. That wasn't what he was here for but then he couldn't help but notice that there were no other beds in the room, only the crib and a changing station. "Where... Where is Aileen? That's him, isn't it? Her baby? Why is he here alone?"

"Tony..." Pepper's hand curled around his wrist and squeezed it tightly.

"No, this... this is not okay. I know nothing about babies but I'm pretty sure they're not supposed to be left—"

"Tony." Pepper pulled him closer, her voice even and strong, the same tone she'd use on him when he was spacing out in the office. "Aileen had a stroke."

He blinked at her, his brain not quite catching up to what she had just said. "Wh—What?"

She looked at him, searching his face to make sure he was listening. "A blood clot traveled to her brain. That causes a stroke."

Tony's blood felt like icy sludge creeping through his vein. No, that... He turned towards the nurse. "That's... that can't be true. She's... she's way too young to have a stroke! Old people have strokes, it—"

"Mr. Stark, I'm very sorry." Nurse Clarissa was looking right at him. "We know now that Miss Kelly has a genetic disposition that makes her blood more likely to form blood clots."

"Now? You know that now?" His heart was racing and the baby was still making a noise and Aileen she— He shook his head. "Where is she? Is... is she going to be okay?"

"She is currently in the ICU, but I'm afraid her condition is unlikely to improve."

Pepper's hand was on him, squeezing his arm tightly. His first instinct had been to pull away but he couldn't quite bring himself to do that.

"No, that... that's not possible. There must be something you can do, please..."

The look on the nurse's face made his insides cramp. "Unfortunately the stroke left Miss Kelly's brain without oxygen for quite an extensive period before her body started reacting to the medication we gave her. As per protocol, we are currently monitoring her, but I regret to inform you that there is no longer any detectable brain activity."

"Where is her doctor?" Tony tried to keep his breathing in check. "I want to talk to him. This... there has to be something. I don't care what, something that..."

That look of pity on the nurse's face made him livid. "Doctor Harrington is in surgery right now, but I am sure he will talk you through the details as soon as he has finished operating."

He swallowed hard. This was a nightmare. It couldn't be happening. "I want to see her. Please... can I just see her?"

The nurse nodded quietly and gestured for him to step out of the room. Pepper made him stop before he could move. Her eyes were on him, trying to decipher his state of mind.

"You don't have to go alone. I'm right here with you."

He nodded, not sure what to say, then frowned, as he found that he was still staring at the crib in the far corner of the room. The baby was still babbling.

"What... what about him. He... he can't be alone."

The nurse nodded reassuringly. "One of the nurses will have an eye on him."

_One of them will have an eye on him..._ He didn't like the sound of that. What if something happened? What if the baby needed something and nobody was in the room? That... that couldn't be right.

"Tony..." Pepper tugged at his arm, made him look at her. "I can come with you or I can stay here with the baby. It's whatever you want, alright?"

He didn't know. He didn't know what he wanted, what he should do.

"You would stay with... with the baby?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Or stay with you. You're not alone in this."

"Have you ever even held a baby, Potts?"

Her eyebrows moved up a little. "Don't think so. You?"

He huffed, eyes not really focused on her but somewhere on the wall next to her. "I need to see her. Aileen. I have to..."

Pepper squeezed his arm again.

"We'll be right here."

* * *

###

* * *

Before he even opened his eyes he had a feeling that he wasn't alone in the room. There was a faint ray of light on his face, a dull throbbing pressure in the back of his head. It wasn't really painful but certainly a fairly uncomfortable feeling. The skin on his chest tingled in a weird way but not uncomfortably either. There was a general sense of exhaustion that was lingering in his every cell. His eyelids were so heavy, just the thought of opening them seemed tiring. He must have been out of it for a while. For a moment his muscles tensed up as a mental image of that room flashed in his memory. He had been trapped in there for hours or was it days?

But as he let his body take in more of his surroundings his nerves calmed down. His arms were no longer bound. No cuffs on his wrists. And that warm light on his face... that was daylight. There had been no daylight in that tiny room he had been held in. The vibe around him was completely different as well. He knew that vibe, it felt familiar and safe. The Tower or the Compound maybe. The latter had more bed he was not very high up. He could also make out a constant sniffing coming from the person on his right and was that crying?

The only person he could imagine crying for him was Aunt May and a jolt went through him. He was going to be in so much trouble! Once she was all happy that he was alive she would just kill him. Probably right there in front of Mr. Stark. Not even he would be able to stop Aunt May on the warpath. Those were the consequences of him keeping his whole crime-fighting career from her. It had always been inevitable that it would implode on him at some point.

Actually, this might not even be the worst way for it to all come out to the open. There was a slight chance that punishment would be less severe because he got hurt already. Come to think of it, he hadn't even been in his Spidey-suit! There might even be a chance they could make this about the internship and keep his crime-fighting part-time job out of the whole situation. If Mr. Stark covered for him...

There was only one way to find out. He had to toughen up and get it over with.

Slowly he forced his eyes to open and wow, that room really was bright. It confirmed what he had already known. He was in one of the rooms in the medical wing at the Compound. Could even be the one Mr. Stark had recovered in, unless they all just looked the same.

Good. At least that meant Mr. Stark might have had a chance to calm May down, maybe even deflect from the crime-fighting. He could only hope. She'd probably have Mr. Stark's head, too, if she knew how heavily he was involved!

When he finally saw who was sitting in that chair next to his bed, he wondered for a moment if he was actually still out of it, hallucinating maybe.

"Good morning," she said with a small sniff.

Peter was just too stunned to form any coherent response to that. They had only met - if you could call it that - a couple of times when he had been hiding in Mr. Stark's room right after Siberia. But he certainly recognized the woman sitting in front of him right away. Not that this was an accomplishment on his part in any way. Considering her constant presence in the media as one of the most influential women in the world, the great majority of people would recognize Pepper Potts. Seeing her up close like this made him immediately uncomfortable though.

He still felt pretty numb, his senses were not up to their usual strength but he could still pick up all the emotion pouring out of her. Like he was seeing a part of her soul that was not supposed to lie so bare for him to look at. Just like during that week when Mr. Stark had been in the coma. Just like he had intruded on their privacy then. When he had betrayed his mentor's trust worse than everyone else had.

His pulse was picking up as a flash of guilt pulsed through him. He could not be thinking of that right now. His hand came up quickly, drumming against his temple trying to get those thoughts, those memories of guilt and Mr. Stark's anger out of his head when a sharp pain pierced his brain.

Right. Concussion. Someone had banged the back of his head against the concrete floor quite forcefully.

He let out a sharp hiss and cursed under his breath. Before he could open his eyes again he felt Pepper Potts' hand on his forearm, holding him steady. Then she gently pushed his shoulder back onto the pillow. He didn't resist as she was guiding him back down and only looked up at her as she slowly and ever so lightly combed through his hair down to his temple and very briefly cupping his face with her hand.

"You need to take it slow, okay? You got banged up quite a bit." She was so close, he could see the teardrops caught in her eyelashes. "It's okay. You're safe and you'll be just fine."

Her eyes were red. He realized just now how red her eyes really were. This was not concern for a kidnapped SI intern she'd never met. This was 'crying for hours' - red. Those weren't tears for Peter Parker. There was only one specific person at the Compound that Pepper Potts would cry for like that.

Peter's eyes widened and he made a few incoherent sounds. It was the wave of emotion crashing over him that brought back the memories of what had happened in that underground bunker. The last thing Peter had seen before he had passed out was Mr. Stark engaged in close up combat. Mr. Stark without his suit, without any protection whatsoever jumping into the middle of a fight with gunshots echoing through the room. He remembered now that it had been Steve Rogers bend over him, breaking the chains that bound Peter's body. That it hadn't been Mr. Stark who had taken care of that in the end.

Panic was strangling Peter and twisting his insides. This... No. This couldn't... Mr. Stark, he couldn't... no... No. No. No!

Miss Potts held onto his arm again and tried to calm him, but that didn't help at all. It didn't stop his body from shooting up from the bed. Not that sitting up did anything for him but it was like his body was reacting on instinct. She was _here_, crying at _his_ bedside. When the only person at the Compound she'd be checking in on would be Mr. Stark.

"He's—oh—oh my god. Mr. Stark is he... is he—" The panic that surged through him, made it hard to even breathe let alone talk.

She pulled him close then, wrapped her arms around him and that broke something else deep in his soul.

"Oh honey, no, he's fine. Shhh." She sat on the side of his bed now, rocking him carefully and holding him close. "He's fine. Tony's okay. He brought you home. He—" She paused for a moment, hugging him even tighter. "He brought you home and you'll be just fine. And he'll be just fine. Everything will be alright."

"He's here? He's okay?" Peter hiccuped, his heart still racing. "He... he didn't get shot?"

"No, he's fine." She swallowed hard but kept rocking him lightly in her arms and there was a vibe of natural familiarity that made him cling to her firmly as she nodded against his shoulder, her voice a low whisper. "He's fine."

The tension fell from Peter's body, his panic ebbed away with every shallow breath he took, but his mind was still racing. He vaguely realized that being comforted by Pepper Potts like this should feel incredibly inappropriate and weird. But for some reason, it didn't. His head was dizzy and maybe it was the exhaustion that had his body just cling to that comfort. Maybe it was that little panic attack, maybe it was just a side effect of that dull throbbing ache at the back of his skull or that stuff he had been shot up with repeatedly by his tormentors. Either way, the result was the same, he was still pretty out of it. So when Miss Potts helped him to lie back down, not a muscle in his body even though about resisting.

"He's... he's really pissed at me, isn't he?"

As he spoke, Miss Potts looked up into his face, her hands still clasping him by the shoulders. She studied him and one of her hands shot up. She didn't touch him, just sort of let her fingers hover over his face, trace the line of his nose and then lightly brushed his hair out of his eyes. She just shook her head, brow creased into a frown.

"No, of course not..." She shook her head again. "He wouldn't be mad at you. This wasn't your fault." A sad smile crossed her face. Her hands slowly glided down his arms, cupped his hands for a moment, then put them down on top of the sheet on either side of him. "How about you get some more rest and I'll go and see what's keeping Tony, alright?"

Peter nodded weakly, worry still locked in his thoughts. "Yeah... yeah, alright."

Mr. Stark had already benched him for being reckless and irresponsible and Peter had no doubt this wouldn't improve his standing a bit. He'd just have to wait and see.

* * *

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* * *

The noises around him, the people walked past him in the corridor didn't really faze him. He hardly even registered their presence, his mind just elsewhere, foggy with emotion. How he found his way back to that room was unclear. Those doors all looked the same, but when he opened the one that felt right, he found that Pepper was right where he had left her. She had her back turned to the door, facing the window, eyes on the world outside but was startled when the door of the hospital room clicked shut behind him.

"How... how is she? Is there—" She stopped when she got a good look at his face.

Tony just shook his head, cleared his throat, not that it made his voice any stronger. "The... erm... the doctor talked me through what happened, what... what will happen now. There's—" He shook his head again, swallowed hard. "They are monitoring for brain waives... have been ever since... ever since the stroke but... but there's nothing."

"I'm so sorry, Tony."

"I've found a few names online. Experts in the field. We... I'll have to call people. Find someone, maybe... I mean just because these people here, the people who let this happen... just because they don't know what—"

"We can call people. If... if you want me to look into that, I'll get right on that."

He nodded, ran a hand roughly through his hair. There had to be something. Just something that he could do.

Pepper took a couple of steps towards him but stopped herself as Tony's eyes fell down to the little bundle in her arms. He could almost feel her eyes right on him, studying him, waiting for what he'd do, where this would be going.

She was waiting for him to bolt and he wanted to do just that. This... none of this was on him. This wasn't what he had wanted. He hadn't chosen this. He had never had plans for anything like this. Plans to take Aileen on that yacht he had recently bought, sure. Plans to bribe someone for last-minute tickets to Coachella because she'd never been, yeah. But this...

"Do you want to hold him?"

Tony bit his lip, still a few steps away from her. "I don't think they'll give us a refund if I break him..."

Pepper did give him a look, then got closer. She carefully transferred the bundle to him with quick instructions on how to support the baby's head as she cushioned it in the crook of his arm. There was a tremor in Tony's muscles. Maybe it had been there this whole time and he only noticed now. Maybe just the thought of how much he could do wrong made his arms shake. All the ways he could damage this little guy with the smallest mistake.

"Tony..." He didn't look up at Pepper's voice, his eyes on the little boy's face who was just lying there, calm and quiet, his big eyes just staring up in the air. Up at him maybe. "I know this isn't what you wanted and you still have options here. If you don't want this, then we'll look for another way. This is still your choice."

He nodded. "I know... I know that."

She stood close to him, just in front of him. "He looks like you, don't you think?"

Her hand came to rest on the little guy's chest, a finger playing with the little hand, tracing his palm until the mini fingers grabbed a hold of Pepper's index finger. That kid was all eyes, a little nose, thin lips.

Tony shook his head. "I think he looks like Aileen. His eyes are so blue. Just like hers."

The boy's tiny fist was still curled around Pepper's finger, holding on to her. She looked up at Tony, the corner of her mouth pulled up a bit.

"All babies have blue eyes, Tony."

His eyebrows shot up. "They do?"

"Well, most of them." She shrugged. "Has something to do with the low melanin levels after birth. They respond to light, get darker over time."

He couldn't help but blow out a somewhat humorous huff. "How do you even know that? Have you been researching babies for the last hour?"

There was a light red flush creeping into her face. "Maybe." Her other hand cupped the baby's face, her thumb lightly tracing the little eyebrow. "It's the shape though. His eyes. Round and big. Just like yours."

He snorted. "All babies' eyes are big and round, Pep. Like little puppies to make them look all cute and adorable. Nature's way of making sure their parents don't abandon them." He sighed, his arms weighing the baby boy from side to side almost on instinct as he studied him. "We could just try this, right? See how things work out? It... it can't be that hard, right? Lots of people do this."

She bit her lip, then took a deep breath. "Tony, this can't be a trial run. This is a little person. He needs... he needs a home. Love and care. Stability." Her hand left the boy's face and settle on Tony's arm instead. When he looked up at her, he found her eyes waiting for him. "It's not just about what you want, it's about what this little guy needs to be happy and safe. If you want to do this then you need to commit. You don't need a lecture from me on absentee fathers. You can't outsource a kid. You can't get bored with this. It's long days, sleepless nights."

He gave her a look not far from an eye roll. "I'm a pro at long days and sleepless nights, Pepper. Didn't think you'd need a reminder of that."

Pepper didn't laugh though, kept her expression sincere. "It's poopy diapers and snot and vomit and all that." She bit her lip, their eyes still locked. "He's not a puppy. It'd be hard and nerve-racking at times and you can't lock yourself away in the workshop over it. He's not going to be this cute all the time."

Tony looked down at the little boy at that, his eyes round and wide, then closing as his tiny mouth stretched open in a gigantic yawn.

Pepper blew out a little laugh. "See, he's already contradicting me."

Tony's heart was beating in his throat. He shouldn't even consider this. He couldn't even take care of himself. Wouldn't make it from one day to the next without Pepper. How was he ever going to take responsibility for someone else? Someone as tiny and helpless at this.

"I shouldn't do this." His voice was low and rough. "I'm not cut out to be a father. I'm not... that's not me. You're... you're right, I'm not cut out for this. He deserves something better. Someplace safe and loving and—"

"No, that's not... Tony, that's not what I was trying to say." She had pulled herself closer, stood right by his side now, her face close enough that she could lean against him if that was something that she'd do. "I think you can do this. In fact I think you could be great at this. You are great at every challenge you decided to take on but you will have to decide to really take it on. This... this just sort of fell into your lap an hour ago. The... the possibility that this might be permanent. You have a choice to make, you can't just half-ass it and wait to see where it goes."

He snorted. "You think I'd be great at this? At looking after someone that isn't me when I can't even look after myself?"

She frowned, her eyes radiating a sense of sadness that he had to look away from. "I do. I know you like to pass yourself off as an asshole. It makes it so much easier to keep people at a distance for someone like you. Your problem has always been that you care too much and not too little. And I'm here... I'm here for you, to support you if you want to do this."

His eyes stung. He had the urge to rub a hand across his face, but he didn't dare to loosen his hold on the little boy in his arms. He was trembling, his body shaking. Pepper's arms wrapped around him, steadied him, helped him to literally keep that bundle safely cradled in his arms. Her head came to rest on his shoulder and he couldn't stop the tears as much as he tried. His head bowed down, pressed into Pepper's hair, muffling the desperate noises he couldn't keep bottled up any longer.

"I'm so sorry, Tony." Her voice was low as she stood by his side, one arm on his back, the other holding back the tremors in his arm. "I'm so, so sorry."

He could only nod along as she kept talking, comforting what felt like both of them.

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_(author's note: First of all, thanks as always for reading and all the comments!_

_Since this chapter had gotten a little long, I decided to split it up in two parts. I'm polishing that 2nd one up right now and will post that later tonight, a quick little goodie after the confusion with chapter 37. ;)_

_For those of you, who missed it, I totally fucked up the other day and forgot to copy/paste a part of chapter 37 (Brooklyn) into AO3. Peter's POV from that confrontation is missing and... well... #oops_

_It's super embarrassing and I still can't quite believe that this actually happened but first I want to thank the dear Leandrazer for asking if maybe they had missed part of the confrontation between the Rogues and Peter cause they only remembered Tony stepping in. Maybe I should have noticed when a couple of people said they would have loved for Peter to go harder on Rogers, but you know... lol. *facepalm*_

_So, that part of the fight was originally supposed to be the end of chapter 36, which is why on my hard drive that's where it still is. I decided to move that POV to chapter 37 but when I published 37 I forgot to go back to 36, copy the end and paste it at the beginning of the next chapter, because either I had a brain freeze or it was like 2 am and I was just too giddy to get it out that I completely forgot._

_Soooo, yeeeeah... I added Peter's missing POV at the beginning of chapter 37, where it was supposed to be and if you want to check it out you should. :P_

_Sorry about the confusion, guys.)_


	43. 11 years, 5 months, 27 days - Chapter 43

**Chapter 43 - 11 years, 5 months, 27 days**

The light in the lab was dimmed down. Tony was resting his head in his hands. Eyes closed, he tried to drown out the multitude of thoughts that threatened to crash his system and would send him back into a panic, paralyzing him. The sound of metal clicking on the lab's tiled floor pulled his mind out of spiraling further downwards. He didn't look up when she sat down next to him on the couch. Her presence was uncomfortable after the months of estrangement that had just made it so much more obvious to him, how much he had been relying and leaning on her. For years.

"It's true."

He didn't look up, didn't move a single muscle.

"Tony..."

"Potts...", he responded with a sigh, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Talk to me."

Any moment now she'd reach for him. Place her hands on him ever so lightly and it would make him jump out of his skin. He desperately needed to release his frustration somehow, lash out against _someone_. And it couldn't be Pepper. Not again. This mess, _his_ mess, was not hers to deal with anymore.

Her voice had been soft and calm before, but the next question came only in a whisper: "It's true, right? It's really Addy?"

He let his hands drop, lifted himself off the couch and strode over to one of his desks. He needed to put space between the two of them. The tools and the prototype of the Nano Housing Unit were still scattered all over the desk as he had left them when he had gone to find out the truth after all. When he had no longer been able to distract himself, had just needed to put an end to everyone's conspiracy theories. He grabbed a couple of screwdrivers, put them back into the top drawer, where they belonged. The movements so internalized after years of repetition, his arms relied entirely on muscle memory. It was soothing in contrast to the constant tension every muscle in his body had been limited to for the past days. Then he just stood there, his back still turned to her.

"Tony," her voice had lost some of the comforting vibe and taken on a tenser tone. "Talk to me!"

A short chuckle bubbled out of him. Dry and humorless. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Potts. Am I not reacting on the appropriate emotional curve of the 'father being reunited with long-lost son' scale?"

"No, you are however perfectly aligned on the 'Tony Stark trying to battle some inner demons' scale that usually starts with you barricading yourself in your lab, refusing to speak to anyone and culminates with you blackout drunk somewhere between Vegas and Monte Carlo. So, cut it out! We had a deal: You tell me. You don't self-destruct."

He turned around, facing her. "That deal expired when you walked yourself out of this relationship and back to LA."

She kept her eyes on him, her expression remaining guarded and calculating. "Tell me."

"Tell you what? How are you even here?"

"Natasha called me. And don't even get me started on how pissed I am that this message didn't come from you. Tell me why you're here, locked up in the dark on your own, stewing in your lab while your kid, who we have been searching for and upended the whole country for - hell, the whole fucking planet - to find for more than a decade... he's up there on his own, scared and confused. He needs you, Tony. That's where you should be right now, by your _son's_ bedside, holding his hand and telling him how everything's going to be alright."

In the old days, she'd have come over by now, rested her hands on his face, soft and gentle touches to reaffirm the intimacy between them, coaxing what he wasn't willing to say out loud from his lips anyway. But that was then and this was now. And she didn't move. Tony's gaze shifted from her face down to her hands that were gripping the edge of the couch as if she was forcing herself to stay put. He gave another humorless huff. She was treating him like a spooked horse, left alone to its own devices for far too long to be comfortable with close human interaction. It'd be hilarious if he didn't have this growing feeling in his stomach that was urging him to call his suit and just fucking bolt.

"And yet you are here." Her voice had lost the reproachful tone and turned almost tearful. "It's not... it's not him, is it..."

"You went to see him." Tony raised his gaze back up to her face and took in her glistering eyes as she nodded.

"Of course I did. I - apparently foolishly - assumed that's where you'd be as well."

It wasn't fair to put her through the motions of this, but Tony had to know. Had to know if the woman who had peered into his soul could see what he hadn't. He kept his tone as neutral as he could manage. "So, what do you think? Does he look like he'd be a son of mine?"

She stayed silent, just kept her gaze on him for a moment. Then at last Pepper got up and came to stand right in front of him. Her hand rose up to his face, tracing his features. He was caught between the urge to flinch back and the deep, deep longing to lean into her touch. At last, he closed his eyes as her index finger wandered down the bridge of his nose, then her thumb lightly followed the curve of his lower lip.

"Look at me, Tony."

He opened his eyes and did look right at her. Her face was so open, pain and hope so clearly drawn in her features. "Yes. Yes, he does."

He struggled to keep the emotion rising inside him out of his own face, out of his voice.

"You know, he's been walking in and out of the Tower and the Compound for months. I had him right in this lab at least twice a month, 2 to 3 days a week at the Tower. At least."

Pepper froze, trying to read him, to make sense of what he was telling her.

"I..." he tried to keep his voice steady "I looked at that face of his for five or six months and I didn't even suspect a thing. The universe was dangling my son right in front of my nose and I was too busy with my own bullshit to notice a fucking thing."

Silent and open-mouthed, Pepper tried to hold onto him, but Tony pushed past her, picked up a stack of papers from the table next to the spot on the couch where she had found him.

"Wait, just give me a second with this..." she didn't follow him right away as Tony made no attempt to storm off. "You've had him in the lab? For months? But..."

"It's Peter."

She shook her head in confusion, brow furrowed. "Your... your intern? He brought him along?"

"No, for fuck's sake, Potts... It's him. Peter Parker. He's—he's my son."

Pepper looked at him with a blank expression on her face. "But... No. That's impossible."

"Oh yeah? You think I don't know that?" Tony bit back, he stalked over and flung the stack of paper onto the workbench in front of her. "I ran the test 15 times! He's... It's Aiden."

"I don't... I don't understand. How..." Pepper frowned, ignoring his frustrated retort.

"I..." He swallowed hard, not meeting her eyes. "I don't know, Potts."

She looked over to him, her eyes still narrowed. "Does he know?"

"No, he doesn't know."

"Are you sure?"

"How would he know, if I didn't even know?"

She was biting her lip, eyes way too sad. "Tony, we don't know what happened. We don't know what kind of people—"

"No. Stop."

"Tony..."

"No, Pepper. He's a good kid. I've worked with him for months. I... He doesn't know. He can't tell a lie without it showing on his face. There is no way!"

She dropped her gaze, her feet still rooted in one spot a few strides away from him. "We don't know, what he's been through. We don't know what... what happened to him."

He shook his head, glaring at her. "I know that. You think I don't know that?"

The expression on her face was almost painful. While she kept her distance her, eyes were back on him. "It's an awfully strange coincidence that he just happened to end up as an intern, let alone an intern working in such close prox—"

"That was me. It was me, not him."

The confusion was evident on her face. "What are you talking about?"

"I placed him in the internship program."

She blinked at him, her eyes leaving his face for a moment as her brain seemed to wreck itself to make the connection. "What does that even mean, you placed him—"

"He's the Spiderling."

It didn't happen too often that he would leave Pepper speechless. She was so used to his antics that she'd usually find a witty reply to whatever bombshell he'd drop on her. This particular one had the opposite effect. Pepper just stared at him, her mouth slightly open. She didn't even gasp, she just stood there frozen, the wheels turning in her head as she put all the little things together. The lies. The excuses.

He took a deep breath. "I... I don't even know where to start with this whole thing. It's a fucking mess." He waited for her to react, to do something, anything, that would give him a clue what she was thinking. "Pepper—"

"I think..." She cleared her throat. "I think where you should have started this was - I don't know - about 5 months ago by telling me that _oh my god_, that vigilante you were sponsoring is a 13-year-old kid? Tony, what the fuck where you thinking!"

"It's more complicated than that—"

"Oh, is it?"

"I didn't know he was a minor! Not at first. And I certainly didn't know he was _this_ young!"

Pepper buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. "How could you be this reckless, Tony?"

"What would you had me do, huh?" His temper was making his heart race. "Lock him up? Hand him over to the authorities? This was maybe a month before the Accords, the climate was changing strongly against us. The NYPD actively pressured us to round him up for them! What do you think Ross would have done with a vigilante teenager?"

Her eyes were closed, one hand still covering her mouth.

"It's what he had set his mind to. He wanted to do something... Wanted to help. So... So, I did the only thing I could do. I tried to protect him."

She opened her eyes at that, looking right at him. "You should have told me."

Tony gritted his teeth. "We weren't really on speaking terms. You weren't even taking my calls! You think I'd wanted to add on the pile of crap you were already furious at me for?"

She didn't look at him, walked over to the sofa and let herself fall into the cushions. Again, she hid her face behind her hands, shaking her head continuously.

"You think I didn't want tell you? It's not been all that easy, alright? It's..." He bit the inside of his lower lip, cursing internally. Of course, he'd screw this up again. "Pep, I—"

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice though awfully quiet still stopped him in his tracks. "I never thought it would get this far. That... that you would think you couldn't tell me about something like this. That I would leave you alone with this."

Tony crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, eyes firmly on her. "It's not... Come on, Pep, it's not that I don't trust you. Of course I do. There was no point in putting this on you as well and I just... I was just trying to protect him and it... it was alright. For the most part, I was doing alright."

"He's 13 and he went hunting for thieves and criminals? Tony, he's 13!"

"Please, just... just don't make me think about that. I don't even... I don't even want to start thinking about any of that."

It's the connection he had been trying to ignore all night. He had helped his 13-year-old son chase criminals. His son had been jumping off buildings, stopping cars with his bare hands and Tony had enabled him. Had stood by as the cops had been chasing him, shooting at him. He had flown his 13-year-old boy to fucking Germany for a superhero fight. Tony swallowed hard then tried to breathe, deep breaths, slow breaths otherwise he might be sick. His stomach was turning.

"That day in Queens. When I... when I came to New York to see you for his birthday..." Pepper's voice was strained. Tony turned towards her, but she still just sat there on the couch, her head bowed low and both hands buried in her hair. "He protected me from those thugs. I can't—" She took a deep breath, swallowed hard. "Aiden... that... that can't be real, can it? It's impossible. How is that even possible. Is it... Why? And... and how can he do that? Did... did someone do that to him? Did someone make him into that?"

Tony slowly walked stepped closer to her, hesitated before he sat down next to her. "It's... it's a combination of a few things. Equipment as well as... as a mutation."

"A mutation?" When she looked up at him, her eyes were wet, one hand covering her mouth.

"It's... it's a long story and... he's fine. It's not... it's nothing awful. Nothing bad."

"What do you mean mutation?"

"Just... He's fast and strong. The superhuman kind. Bit like..." Tony swallowed hard. "Bit like Cap. He... his senses, his hearing, and his eyesight, all that is a lot better than normal."

"Is that... is that why they kidnapped him? Because they wanted him for... for these mutations? Experiment with the—"

"No." His stomach turned at the thought of these assholes putting their hands even more on him. "I don't think so. I don't think they knew. Not initially. They took him to get to me. They were after technology and weapons. Thought they had my intern and then... then they figured out who he is. Who he really is, even before I fucking knew." He ran a hand threw his hair, the agonizing hours of confusion and scrambling for information coming back to him like reliving a nightmare. "I'd benched the kid. He was... He tried to take on Rogers and god... god, they could have seriously messed him up. Ross almost got the whole lot of them. I told him to stay away from them. I _told_ him, to stick to his neighborhood in Queens! But that boy... it's... it's like scolding a concrete wall. He just does whatever he thinks is right, not even a shred of self-preservation!"

Pepper snorted with what sounded a lot more like laughter than despair, and he pulled back in surprise, eyes narrowed on her. "I'm sorry, did I say something funny?!"

She snickered again, wiping tears off her face. What the hell was funny about that? The kid had almost given him multiple heart attacks.

"I'm sorry, honey..." she bit her lip, rubbing at her eyes. "Seems like... like we don't even need a blood test to determine paternity here."

He scowled at her. "That's not funny, Pepper."

Pepper nodded slowly and then looked up at him, her face soft. "I'm sorry."

He fell silent and so did she. For a few minutes, they just sat there, staring at their feet not saying anything.

"What are you going to do?" Her eyes were back on him, concern etched in every line of her face.

"I... I don't know." His feet were itching to move and he stood up, walked back over to his workbench only to remember that he'd already put everything away. Nothing left to distract him from his own thoughts.

"Do you know where he lives? Is he... like I don't even know... does he live with a family."

"With a woman." Tony gritted his teeth at the though. "He calls her his aunt, I..." He tried to shake off the anger that rolled through him whenever he thought of May Parker. "Her husband was killed. They adopted him when he was... well, when Peter Parker was four. Autumn of 2005."

"That's close."

It was. Still, there were months between when Aiden had been kidnapped and the date on those adoption papers. There was always the possibility of those being fake of course. Tony had no idea about the details. Not yet.

"He was 2 and a half years old." Pepper shook her head, eyebrows drawn in concentration. "They would have known that he's not 4. Addy... Addy was advanced for his age but not that—"

"I know that, Pep. FRIDAY is looking into the Parkers. I don't know enough yet. I don't know what they did. If they did this. I just..."

She sat up straight. "You haven't called anyone yet, have you? Police? CPS?"

"No."

"And... are you planning to?"

"Yes. No." His lungs deflated with a sigh. "I don't know." Tony evaded her eyes. He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know where to start. It wasn't as easy as just keeping the boy. The lump in his throat had gotten even thicker. He was about to lose the fight against his rising emotions. Pepper got up slowly, still kept her distance, hovering close to him now, unsure how to help.

"I call them and then what? I have no idea what they'll do. They might..." He took a deep breath trying to steady his voice. "I call them and they might take him, they'd want to investigate shit, right? It's been 11 years, they... they'll not just give him back to me and wish us the best, are they? They'll probably put him in a "neutral" place til, I don't know... Who knows how long they take to come to any kind of decision on what happened and during all that time he'll be on his own, alone, left to the whims of some bureaucrats, CPS agents, strangers..."

He was fidgeting with the stack of test results that he had left on the workbench. "And even if they don't, his DNA is... it's complicated with his spider powers, the mutation. They could be difficult. They could be real difficult if they wanted to be. Worst case scenario would be them simply looking for an exact DNA match. Then they'd figure out that he has mutant DNA and that would open a whole different can of worms. And it's his DNA that would be their go-to way to determine that it's... well, him. That it's Aiden."

She still didn't get any closer, still left him his space and for the first time in a long time, he was starting to wish that she wouldn't. Something weak and desperate in his very soul was aching for that comfort they used to share. All those nights that she had taken some of the burden off of him when he hadn't been alone in the pain and despair that was now so tightly knitted with the memory of Aiden.

Her breathing was deep and controlled. She blew out one particular deep breath before she spoke up again. "We'll figure something out, alright? I... I don't know what our options are. I don't... I just don't know enough right now, but we can figure this out. We will be okay, Tony. Addy... he's here and he's safe and he's going to be okay. We just need a plan, alright?"

Tony huffed out a shallow laugh. Always the optimist. "He's lying up there in his bed and I... I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Pep. Am I... am I supposed to tell him? I mean, I have to, right? He deserves to know the truth, doesn't he?"

She was close enough now to reach for his hand, her fingers soft on his skin just squeezing him lightly. "Of course he does. You both do."

"And then what?" Tony turned his eyes right at her. "Am I supposed to make him stay? What if he doesn't want to stay? What if he wants that lady in his life instead? What if he's been stockholmed thoroughly enough that he wants to stay with her instead? What if he just loves her more than he will ever—"

"Tony..." She pulled him closer, one hand cupping his face, trying to calm him. "He'll be thrilled."

"What if he's not?" Tony pulled in a deep breath. "What if he doesn't pick me? Am I... Am I supposed to make him chose me?"

"Honey, he's a 13-year-old kid who likes to jump off rooftops and hunt down bank robbers. You think a kid like that can make a sensible choice that will alter the rest of his life?"

She was so close to him all he could do was let his eyes fall shut to cut himself off, to find some space to distance himself from the inevitable decision that was lying right in front of him.

"Tony, he deserves to know. He has a right to know the truth."

A shiver ran down his spine, his whole body was trembling with nerves and exhaustion.

"The truth..." He shook his head, eyes still averted. "The truth will ruin the life he has. It will change everything. And I can't..." Another deep breath, but it wasn't enough now to keep his voice from shaking. "I'll have to tell him because the one thing I do know is that I won't let him get back to that witch of an _aunt_." Tony's eyes found hers, tears overcoming him at last. "I won't. I will do everything I can to get her into the deepest darkest cell they can find. The raft should have some spare rooms. She will never, _never_ put her hands on him again." He tried to slow his breathing, get a grip of his voice and his anger. "But... but he loves her. He will try everything to get to her. And he will know that everything that is happening to his life will be because of me. Because I want him back."

He stepped into Pepper's embrace, her fingers softly caressing his neck.

"He'll blame me, Pep. He'll hate me."

"You don't know that. He's lying up there recovering and after everything he went through he's only asking for you." She hugged him closer as his breathing became more erratic ."Honey, you need to breathe. Just breathe with me. We'll figure this out. You are not alone in this." Her hand softly ran through his hair, her other hand on his back pressing him firmly against herself. "You don't have to do this alone."

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_[author's note: _

_Alright, guys. Thanks again for sticking with me._

_This is a little bit of a milestone tbh. This chapter is the very setting that this whole story revolts around, the first one I wanted to write back in November of 2018. _

_Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and for sticking with the story. It's certainly been a whole lot of fun for me :)_

_There is more to come, don't worry. We're not at the end yet... ;) ]_


	44. Pain and Priorities - Chapter 44

**Chapter 44 - Pain and Priorities**

Peter had tried to rest, tried to sleep, but sleep didn't really want to come. The room was bright and empty. It was just him and his thoughts. That was never a good combination. It left him to overthink things and there was nobody more skilled at overthinking stuff than Peter Parker.

He tried to make some sense of the things that had happened to him, the kidnapping as well as getting rescued. He didn't remember all that much from how he had even gotten himself in that situation. Only that it was close by the Tower and that his senses had been flaring up. He had thought that it had just been his nerves and emotions messing with them, that he was just worried about how to apologize to Mr. Stark, but, well... he'd been wrong about that it seemed. They must have been there waiting, but why for him? Had they suspected that he was Spider-Man? Was his secret out there?

Had that been the reason why the Rogues had shown up? Did they know, too? Maybe they hadn't been there to help at all. Why would they ever help him? He wasn't even sure if he'd want their help. Not after what they had done to Mr. Stark.

Peter's stomach turned. He still hadn't apologized to Mr. Stark either and he hated himself for it. He had messed up so bad, on so many levels. The fact that Miss Potts was here, at the Compound... that couldn't be a coincidence either.

There was a little prickle at the back of his neck before it happened. Not as strong as his senses would usually react but strong enough that his eyes darted to the door as it was slowly pushed open. Peter swallowed hard as they stepped into the room. Mr. Stark had his mask in place, the one he'd put on during interviews. That face that Peter had rarely seen on him in real life but it was the taped cut on the man's face that Peter couldn't stop staring at. Miss Potts was right behind him, her features soft just like they had been when had woken up to this unlikely visitor.

Neither of them walked very far into the room. Mr. Stark just stood there at a considerable distance, arms crossed in front of him, silent. He didn't say anything and Peter's heart was racing along with his mind. Was he... waiting? Maybe he was waiting. Maybe this was... maybe this was were Peter was supposed to apologize.

His throat was dry. He was a little worried that he'd not even get any words out at all. "Mr. Stark, I... I'm so sorry, Sir. I'm so sorry. For... for everything. I didn't mean—I didn't want to—" Peter's eyes flicked to Miss Potts who was standing behind the man. Maybe Mr. Stark had told her about Peter's secret, but what if he didn't? How was he even supposed to apologize when he wasn't even sure if he should even speak of all those things he had done in front of her.

He turned his eyes away from them, couldn't even really look up at his mentor. It didn't even matter. There were no words that would ever make up for what Peter had done. The betrayal. The lies. It was all too much. Mr. Stark did step forward at that, close enough that one of his hands could clasp Peter's lower arm tightly. Even this was different. The man's hand was cold, his grip hesitant and nowhere as anchoring as it had been before. Things would never be as they were before and it was all Peter's fault.

"Just breathe." Mr. Stark's voice was low, almost whispered. "You need to calm down."

Peter swallowed hard. He felt like a little kid just lying there, he couldn't take it. He needed to get up, face the consequences of what he had done no matter how much it terrified him. He was still Spider-Man. He was still supposed to be, well... maybe not a superhero, but something. Something better than this, cowering in his bed. He struggled to push himself up but Mr. Stark put a hand on his chest and ended Peter's efforts without much strength. He just kept Peter right there on his back in the hospital-like bed, made him just lie there. Peter braced himself at the touch, was just waiting for the pain that the pressure on his chest should send through him. He pressed his eyes shut, but nothing came. It took him a moment to wrap his head around the fact that Mr. Stark was at all able to keep him in that bed and that the pain the man's hand on his chest should have caused never came. Was he... was he healed? How long had he been unconscious?

Peter's eyes blinked open in confusion and for the first time since what had happened between them, Peter could look his mentor in the eyes.

The man didn't even blink. He just looked at him. "You're okay. Helen took care of... of those wounds. It's all gone, alright? You're okay."

Peter couldn't help but lift the neckline of the light hospital gown they had put on him and squint underneath the fabric. There really was nothing there. None of the cuts the kidnappers had left on his chest when they had tried to get him to talk.

Mr. Stark blew out a deep breath. "You should have... god, why didn't you just tell them the code? It's just a phone."

"I... the phone... it had access... direct access to your—" Heat was rising up to Peter's face. Embarrassment as he would have to talk about the deceit that was nobody's fault but his own. Then he shot a quick look at Miss Potts. He couldn't talk about that. Not right there. "I... I couldn't... with... the phone it had... it had everything. They would have had access to every—everything. They... they did because—" His voice breath caught in his throat. "Because I did... I did tell them. I'm so sorry, Sir. It was so dumb, I didn't... I just... I should have never put it there."

Mr. Stark cupped his face, his hand still cold, still so different than before. "Just breathe. Just... just calm down. It's over now." The slow circles he was rubbing across Peter's temple felt somewhat familiar nonetheless, were soothing. Just for his nerves that were on edge. His senses. His senses were fine, he didn't even feel much of anything. No overwhelming tingling, no voices from the hallway.

Peter's eyes shot open. He hadn't even realized that he had closed them.

"I... I can't feel..." Panic was flooding his veins. His senses. His senses should be screaming but... but there was nothing. What had they done? Had he lost his powers? "I... I can't—"

"Helen gave you a sedative. It numbs your senses, that's all." Mr. Stark was studying his face, his gaze intense like he was seeing him for the first time. "It was a lot stronger at first, but it's wearing off now. Then you'll feel that bump on your head."

The bump on his head? Peter's hand flew up to investigate, but again Mr. Stark caught his arm and pulled it back down. He didn't even need any strength to overpower Peter.

"Don't. Just leave it alone. The swelling needs to go down."

His head should be throbbing. He should be feeling something but his body was eerily compliant. They had taken away his senses and he was helpless without them.

"You... you drugged me."

For a moment Mr. Stark looked like he was going to deny it, but then he nodded. "Yes."

"I..." Peter's eyes stung. Was this... Were they trying to keep him pliant? Did Mr. Stark think he went looking for trouble again? For those criminals? For the Rogues? "I didn't know. I didn't know they would be there, Sir. Please, I swear, I didn't go looking for them..."

Mr. Stark shook his head. "It's okay."

"...I didn't even know. I didn't know that the Rouges were going to show up either, please..."

"Just take a breath. You're not in trouble. Not... you're not in trouble."

"...I promise. Don't... don't tell them. Don't let them take me, please, I—"

"Stop. Just..." Mr. Stark pulled him up into a sitting position and slung his arms tightly around him. "It's okay, I believe you. I know what happened. It's not your fault. I know what those assholes did but they are gone, alright?"

"I'm sorry, please... please don't take them away."

"I... I'm not. I'm not taking anything... Kid, I'm not taking anything away. You're alright." Mr. Stark's hand was on the base of his neck, holding him close against him. "It's just for the pain. It's just a side effect."

Peter couldn't help the panic that overwhelmed him. He couldn't shut it down. His limbs were numb. His head should be throbbing with all these questions and emotions. He wasn't in control of anything, not his body, not even his own life. Every turn he took just lead him deeper down that rabbit hole, had him trapped. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't even feel Mr. Stark's pulse as he held Peter's pressed against him. He should be able to listen to the man's pulse from across the room but everything just seemed dull and uncooperative.

He wanted to run and cling closer to the man at the same time, but none of it seemed like the right thing to do. Mr. Stark was still talking but he couldn't even really hear him. The drugs. The panic. Something had put a veil between him and the world around him.

The door to the room flew open and Doctor Cho stepped closer to the bed. Lights were blinding his eyes and he had to look away, tried to curl around his middle or Mr. Stark, around something to shield himself. His arms were clinging to Mr. Stark now, desperate not to let go as someone tried to pull him away. He looked up and sure enough, Doctor Cho had prepared another one of their drug cocktails. More drugs. More needles. He couldn't.

"Just wait... Helen, just wait!" Mr. Stark wiggled one of Peter's hands between them, pressed it right over his heart. "Kid, you're having a panic attack. You know the drill. We've... we've been here. We got this. Just focus. Focus on my pulse. Just the one thing."

"I... I can't... I can't feel it. I... everything's numb, I can't—"

"Look at me then." Mr. Stark cupped his face with both his hands. Just focus on me, everything else doesn't matter, alright?" The man looked right at him, eyebrows knitted closely together. "You're safe. Nobody here is going to hurt you. You just need to breathe, buddy. Please, just breathe."

Peter tried to nod, tried to mimic the deep inhales and exhales Mr. Stark was demonstrating for him to follow.

It took a bit. A minute or two. He couldn't quite say but his pulse slowly went down. As oxygen flooded back into his system he found some of his senses were returning to him as well. He was still numb. It was still so very different from how Mr. Stark's skin should feel under his hands as he was clinging to him. The pressure along his hairline and his temples as Mr. Stark's thumbs carefully rubbed circles onto them.

"You back with me, kid?"

Peter nodded and bit the inside of his cheeks. His eyes flickered to Doctor Cho hovering close behind Mr. Stark, then Miss Potts who was studying him from the back of the room. Peter could feel the chill on his face now, where his tears had fallen. Embarrassed, he tried to pull away.

"Just stay with me, kid. Just look at me." Mr. Stark still held onto him, had his eyes still firmly on him, as Peter's found his face again. "You're safe. I got you. I promised I would come and get you and that you'd be safe. You remember? The video call?"

Peter swallowed hard. A lot of the details of what had happened over the last, well... days... probably... A lot of that was foggy in his memory. He frowned, tried to think back, to remember. Between these men and Mr. Stark and Steve Rogers and even his dad, it was a blur and most of that didn't seem real. Some of it couldn't even be real and so much of what had happened to him was mixed up in pain and fear.

"Hey, it's alright. You don't..." Mr. Stark sighed, then turned to the two women waiting behind him. "Helen. Maybe... maybe a short summary for the kid would be appreciated I think."

"Of course." She nodded and stepped next to Mr. Stark. "Hi, Peter. My name is Helen. You might have seen me before at the Compound, during one of your internship days."

Peter shot a quick glance at Mr. Stark and echoed the man's short nod. His arm was still around Peter's shoulders, still holding him.

Doctor Cho talked him through everything they had done since Mr. Stark had brought him to the compound. How they had flushed out the drugs he had been shot up with, the cradle that healed those wounds on his chest and the deep cut on his face. They left some of the minor cuts that would quickly heal off on their own.

"The procedure still sucks a lot of energy out of the body so you'll need some time to recover from that and we're going to monitor your concussion as well. Just take the time you need. We can keep giving you small doses of the sedative you're on right now. I know it might be weird at first to get used to limited sensor input but it's the only pain management we can offer right now and when it wears off, you'll really feel your head. I will come and check on you though."

Peter swallowed hard and then gave a few more short nods. "Thank... thank you, Ma'am."

The Doctor's lips curled into a bit of a smile. "That's quite alright, dear." She nodded at Mr. Stark. "I'll leave you to it then. See me about that thing on your head, Tony. Natasha said something about a bullet graze as well?"

Peter's eyes shot over at the man as his heart seemed to skip several beats.

"Tony, you got shot?" Miss Potts stepped closer to them and looked him up and down as if she would be able to find out where, even through his clothes.

"I'm fine... it's nothing."

"They—they shot you." Peter's voice hitched. "I... I knew it. Oh... oh god, I'm so—"

Mr. Stark pulled him a little closer again. "Alright. Calm down, buddy. I'm fine. Seriously, Pep, I—" He grunted in pain. "Urgh, stop. Yes, you found it. Ow!"

Peter pulled away a bit but Mr. Stark wasn't looking at him, he shot a glance up at Miss Potts who seemed to have petted him down, her arm still resting on Mr. Starks left arm. Doctor Cho just gave an awkward wave and left the room.

"It's just a graze. I'm fine."

She didn't say anything but her eyes were enough of a scolding.

Mr. Stark didn't seem to be fazed though, he just sighed and turned his attention back to Peter. "You just get some rest, alright?

He felt himself nod, new tears stinging in his eyes yet again. "I'm sorry. I'm really—"

"Don't. You... you don't have to apologize for anything right now. I'll... I'll go and take care of this and you just have to rest and get better, buddy."

"Tony..." Miss Potts had stepped closer but Mr. Stark just shook his head again.

His eyes were still on Peter, he still hadn't let go of him either. Still sat there with him. "All you need to do right now is let your body rest."

"But... but Sir, what—" Heat rose to Peter's face mostly because this hadn't occurred to him before. He couldn't just stay at the Compound. "What about May? I... I have to get home. She's... she's going to—"

The pressure of Mr. Stark's hand on his arm intensified and Peter just about managed not to flinch. "I'll take care of all that. You... you can just—"

"But, Sir, she'll be so worried if—"

"Kid, you can't even sit up straight on your own." Mr. Stark loosened his hold of him and to Peter's horror, his body did start to slowly tilt back until he was on his back, his own arms still holding on to Mr. Stark. "The cradle is no magic, you heard Helen. It takes a lot of energy."

Peter's eyes burned and he looked away. He hated being this weak, this helpless.

"I can... I can get Helen back. She can give you something if you want. So you can sleep and don't have to think."

The man's voice was quieter again, clearly wanting him to choose the drugs but Peter just shook his head. He didn't want to be put under. He needed to keep some control over his body.

"Alright then, we'll leave you to rest."

Mr. Stark gave his arm a parting squeeze then got off the bed and hurried for the door without another look at either him or Miss Potts.

"Tony!" She stood there for another moment halfway between the bed and the door. "I'm really sorry, he's..." She bit her lip then smiled at Peter. "I guess someone has to make sure he gets that thing looked at."

Peter couldn't help but smile at that.

She quickly came closer and squeezed his hand. "You just tell FRIDAY, okay? If you need anything?"

"Yeah..." His cheeks were heating up. "Yeah, okay."

"FRI, you will let us know right away if... if Peter needs something."

**_"Of course, Ma'am."_**

Miss Potts gave his hand another quick squeeze and flew out the door. As the door fell shut, Peter's eyes wandered up to the ceiling.

"Hi FRIDAY."

_**"Welcome back, Peter."**_

He bit his lip. It was worth a shot. "So, what did I miss?"

* * *

#

* * *

"Tony!"

He heard her, of course he did. She caught up quickly and in those heels that was a true accomplishment. He had rushed down the corridor, turned three corners before he came to a halt. He couldn't risk the kid overhearing. Pepper was right behind him, almost bumped into him where he had stopped just behind the third corner. He turned, faced her.

"I can't tell him, Pepper. I... I can't." He roughly rubbed a hand across his face and cursed as he accidentally pressed his hand on that gash in his face. "I don't know how. I don't even know how any of this happened. I can't just dump this on him. Plus... plus the results... they're not 100% conclusive. Maybe... maybe it's the mutation from the spider bite and maybe... Maybe, I'm just wrong. What if I'm just wrong?"

She shook her head, eyes wide. "You said you ran the test 15 times."

"I did."

"And?"

"And?" He shrugged, not really meeting her eyes. "What if I made the same mistake 15 times? I'm not a forensic science technician or have a... a background in cellular biology or molecular biology or even biochemistry or—"

"Tony!" She reached for him but Tony took a step back just before her hands were on him. "Just... just stop. You think I believe that you messed up a test that what... a hundred or a thousand labs all across the country can run?"

"Labs with highly educated, specially trained—"

She blew out a deep breath. "FRIDAY, did Tony follow all the correct instructions when he ran those tests?"

**"Yes, Ma'am. Mr. Stark's execution of the provided instructions was flawless."**

She gave him a look but wasn't done shooting holes in his excuses. "So, it's Aiden. We can be sure, that the boy is Aiden Stark."

**_"Yes, Ma'am. The DNA results are a close enough match that in addition to the recorded fingerprints we can say with certainty that Peter Parker and Aiden Elliot Stark are either the same person."_**

Tony turned away from her, his heart throbbed in his ears but he felt Pepper step up behind him. She hesitated for a moment and Tony braced himself for another lecture but instead, Pepper looped her arms around his torso and nestled against his back. He bit his lip trying to braze for the pain but her arms interlocked underneath his rib cage, nowhere near that bullet bruise on his chest.

"It's a good thing, honey. You found him." She pulled him closer, her voice just a low whisper. "I know this isn't over yet... All of this is impossible but Addy is safe, he's home. It's what we always wanted."

Tony tried to swallow the lump in his throat. His hands came up and clasped one of the arms she had slung around him. Her breath was warm on his skin as she sighed and kept talking.

"It's what we've been waiting for... for so long."

"I... I know that, Pep."

Her chin came to rest on Tony's shoulder and he let his head dip to the side, resting it against hers.

"I know you're scared, honey. I'd be worried if you weren't confused and upset and... and just feeling it all."

They stood there in the corridor for a moment, Pepper's arms wrapped around him and he couldn't help but lean into the embrace. Having Pepper there, having someone to share the burden of the decisions he would have to make was everything. After years of fighting since he had become Iron Man, maybe this would be what could pull them back together. Maybe he did want to give this one more shot.

Tony bit his lip. "I need to know more before... before I can tell him." It might have felt like he was just trying to avoid telling the boy and he sure didn't even know where to begin, but when he did... when Tony did tell him he'd need to know more about what had happened than he did so far. "He'll... he'll have questions. You think... you think _I'm_ confused? The kid... the kid will be—"

"Alright. We can do that." Pepper nodded against him, her hold of him still tight. "We'll get some answers while he's still recovering, while he gets his strength back."

"Right."

"Right after you had Helen look at your arm and your face."

"Oh please." He dropped her hand and wiggled out of Pepper's arms. "You think my face is a priority right now?"

"We are not even discussing this. You will go and have her fix up those wounds."

"Natasha already did that last night."

"Funny as I'm looking at it right now and it's still right there on your face!"

Tony narrowed his eyes at her. "If you even think for a second that I would do anything but look into May fucking Parker right now then—"

"Tony, please. I'll... I'll get Natasha. We'll get started and then in what 30 minutes, something like that... you'll just join us."

"No!" He had to pull himself together to keep the shudder from rolling down his back. "I don't want her close to my son, Pep. I don't... I don't need her. I can solve this on my own. I have FRIDAY and—"

"So you trust her with your face but not with Addy."

"I trust nobody with Addy!" He couldn't even control how harsh that had come out.

She blinked a couple of times, then took a step back, her eyes still on him.

"Pep..."

"No, of course you don't."

"Pepper, come one..." He stepped closer but she held up her hand effectively stopping him in his tracks.

"Of course you don't. It's... that's completely reasonable. I just... I—"

Two more steps and he was right in front, one hand on the small of her back pulled her against him, the other reached for the back of her neck and brought her face so close, her forehead almost rested against his. "I didn't mean you, Pep. I trust you with my life. Of course, I trust you with Addy."

She sniffed out a short humorless breath. "I'm the one who lost him in the first place."

"That's not true, Pep. I'll not have this discussion again, alright?"

She looked down at the floor instead of looking him in the eye.

"Let's go then. Let's get that damn spy and we'll figure out what really happened."

At that, Pepper did look up. "What about your face. You really should just let—"

"When we know more about the witch, okay? I'll..." He closed his eyes and blew out a slow breath. "I promise... when we know more about May Parker."

They stared at each other for another moment, then gave a sharp nod and followed him towards the common room. The walk from the medical wing up to the second floor was short. Too short. Not nearly long enough for Tony to get his thoughts in order. There were too many unknown variables to this. Too much, that he could only roughly speculate about. And his emotions certainly didn't help him keep a clear head.

Natasha was waiting, standing there like she had been expecting them to show up any minute. She gave a short nod in Pepper's direction, then turned her eyes on Tony.

"How's the boy?"

Tony took a deep breath, hoping to steady his voice. "He's awake. He's healing. Helen... Helen said he should be okay."

Her eyes seemed to x-ray him, not in the hidden spy-style fashion. No, the obvious one that she used to make it clear beyond a doubt that she was waiting for him to tell her more.

"They..." Tony cleared his throat. "They were right. The assholes. You... you were right." He took a deep breath and ran both of his hands just lightly across his face in an attempt to shake that feeling of utter uselessness and crumbling self-worth. "I ran his DNA. He's... It's... The kid, he..."

He blew out another deep breath, closed his eyes to calm himself. Pepper's hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, slowly rubbing up and down between them.

"It's Aiden," Pepper said for him.

Tony let his chin fall onto his chest. How could he not have known?

Natasha just stood there, stoic as ever. "What do you need me to do?"

His eyes shot up to look at her. The white-blond bob still made her look so much unlike herself and still it was so clearly Natasha. He couldn't even really say if that was helpful in making him trust her more or not.

"I... I don't know. I..." Tony shook his head. He had no idea where to go from here. What to do, how to fix this. How would he ever be able to fix this?

Pepper's hand slowly clasped his. "Let's just... let's go through what we know." Her eyes were waiting for him when he looked up at her. "Look at everything FRIDAY found and we... we can take it from there."

"Yes." Natasha nodded along, her eyes still on Tony.

He swallowed hard, but they were right. He would need all the help that he could get. All of this was just such a mess. All he had were random pieces of a puzzle that kept on expanding. Every lead he had tried to follow over the night had just thrown up more questions than answers.

Their walk to the lab was quiet. The Compound itself was still pretty much deserted. The wing Tony's lab and private rooms were in certainly was. He had FRIDAY turn up the light, more of a daylight atmosphere not that he needed anything more than the adrenaline pumping through his veins to stay awake.

"FRIDAY. Recap the general intel we have, girl. Projection unlayered."

**"Of course, Sir. Peter Parker, born on August 10th, 2001. Lives with May Parker, widowed, formerly married to Benjamin Parker. Both adopted Peter Benjamin Parker in November 2005. Medical records display two failed attempts at IFV. The Parker's were rejected by 3 adoption agencies before they signed with WAF America. They lived in New Hampshire, sold their house at the end of April of 2008 and then moved to Queens in the summer of the same year. Peter was enrolled in Queens Hills Explorers Elementary in 5th grade in 2011. May Parker has since worked at Avenue Hotels in Brooklyn. Benjamin Parker prior to his death was employed by different electrical vendors in Queens. He was shot on October 23rd last year. His death was ruled as a homicide but the shooter was never identified."**

FRIDAY had projected the different pieces of information around them. Tony and Natasha stood, reading through the various sources while Pepper was sat on the couch, tablet in her lap taking notes herself.

Tony's arms were crossed as he stared at the lease the Parker's had signed in July 2008, the same apartment Peter had still been staying in with May Parker until now.

"Who moves a young boy like that from the suburbs into the city." Tony bit his lip. "Why would they do that?"

Pepper typed a couple of words into her text file. "I don't know, do you really need another reason to move from New Hampshire to the city other than the obvious?" She looked up as both Tony and Natasha turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Just speaking from experience."

Tony couldn't help but shake his head. "God, Potts, sometimes I forget what a snob you truly are."

She shot him a look. "Right, Mr. My-Skyscraper-has-72-stories."

"He's right, though." Natasha cleared her throat. "They had already moved across the state in early 2008, sold the house then moved from one suburb to another. It's fishy. They would have lost money on that. No way even in April of 2008 that the house still sold for a decent price."

Tony nodded along with her. "Plus, they had a small boy. Why would they trade a house with a backyard and a quiet neighborhood for a 2 bedroom apartment in a busy apartment building in Queens."

"Better job market." Pepper shrugged. "Maybe they were defaulting on their mortgage."

Tony dropped his arms and pointed at a different piece of information. "May Parker didn't work until October 2011. That's three years later."

Pepper's fingers were nervously tapping on her leg. "Better education for the kid?"

"They didn't enroll the boy in school until 2011 either. Unless there are records missing." Tony shook his head. "She must have homeschooled the kid."

"Which makes sense." Natasha shrugged. "Peter was supposedly 7 by the summer of 2008 when Aiden was only 5. Any somewhat competent teacher would have picked up on that no matter how smart the kid is."

"Why then?" Pepper looked from Natasha to Tony and back again.

"Anonymity." The Widow didn't even hesitate. "That's why people move into busy apartment blocks where tenants change with the seasons. Where nobody asks any questions cause they know nothing about each other."

"Right." Pepper nodded. "So they were hiding something."

"Obviously, they were hiding something. They tried to pass my son off as an older boy they supposedly adopted." He paced back and forth. "I'll just get her. I'll put her in one of the basement cells right here and I'll leave her there till she tells me what—"

"Alright, let's just..." Pepper dropped the tablet on the couch and stepped up to him. "Let's just calm down for a moment."

"I'm done being calm. We're just widely speculating while she knows everything!"

Natasha cracked her neck, wildly ignoring his rage. "What do we know about this lady then?"

"You mean other than that she's an evil, manipulative—"

"Yes, Tony." Natasha silenced him with a glance. "Yes, other than that. Let's start with the obvious: does she have anything to do the kid's abilities?"

He cleared his throat, reluctantly shook his head. "No."

Pepper was still right next to him. "Maybe they experimented on him while they kept him at home. Gave him these... these abilities to use him?"

"No." Tony shook his head. "He got those a lot more recently."

Natasha still had her eyes on the displayed intel. "You already looked into this?"

"I... yeah. FRI?" He gestured at one of the AI cameras and FRIDAY pulled up the file on Oscorp, which really wasn't more than a few eye witness accounts and articles. "There is no definite evidence of Oscorp tampering with radioactivity or animals. They did end their internship program indefinitely at the end of September last year, just weeks after the school year had started without any notice or much of an explanation. And there was a fire that conveniently burned out two of the lab floors. The kid's school record does have him attend less than 3 weeks of that internship. He told me it was a spider at his internship that bit him. Time frame checks out."

"Hm." Natasha studied one document after the next. "Does May Parker know about his abilities?"

"No. He's... He said she'd freak out, didn't want to worry her." They had argued about this. More than once. "I told him he should. That she should hear it from him. I mean, I only found out because he got hurt and came to the Tower for help. He made a point of not wanting to tell _anyone_, and it did make sense. He's a kid. It's not just about the authorities. He's a freaking high schooler. If people knew, his teachers, classmates, no. That... that would have been impossible. So, he kept it quiet."

"Hm." Natasha just stood there, back straight, motionless, thinking. "Maybe he doesn't trust her."

Tony snorted out a laugh that came out more annoyed than amused. "He adores her."

She tried again. "Maybe it's how he overcompensated that he doesn't—"

"I'm telling you, Nat, he'd run headfirst into a burning building for her, spider-senses or not."

Whatever this was and Tony had no idea what to make of any of these things, Peter trusted this woman. Maybe there was a part of Tony left that did want to believe that his son at least hadn't been mistreated, neither obviously nor subtly emotionally. That the kid hadn't suffered for all these years.

Pepper's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Okay, maybe she just doesn't know. Maybe she has no idea this is happening. Any of this."

Tony's head was buried in his hands, rubbing his temples. Pepper was still right next to him. Her hand gave his back a few soothing rubs. "Maybe Addy was actually put in the system for some reason. It's as a good place as any to hide a stolen child."

"It's possible," Natasha nodded. "In our line of work we tend to think the worst of people."

Pepper went back to the couch and picked up the tablet. She pulled up the adoption papers from the school file Tony had hacked all these months ago, then looked up at Tony.

"Have you ever met her?"

"Yes." He gnawed at his lip before he added, "Once. I went to their apartment."

"So?"

He shrugged. "So?"

Natasha tilted her head at him. "You trying to be difficult about this, Tony?"

He turned his back and let out a frustrated groan. "I didn't notice anything weird, okay? I had no idea. I didn't—"

"Alright just..." Natasha didn't seem annoyed which annoyed him even more. "Just calm down. This is not your fault, alright. We're trying to figure this out together."

"She seemed perfectly normal. Attentive. Caring about the boy."

Somehow that was the worst part. That woman was hard to hate.

The widow cleared her throat. "I can just go and check her out."

Tony looked up at Natasha, entirely uncomfortable with that setup. "No. No, if anyone goes and questions her, that'd be me. I'll send a car to pick her up. I can just make something up, tell her it's something about the kid. She would come right away."

Natasha hadn't moved, eyes still on Tony. "But she'd know that you're the one asking."

"I don't care. I'll do it. It's my son. If anyone goes to investigate her—"

"Oh, don't be such a stubborn bull." Natasha didn't roll her eyes, but her tone said it all. "Honestly, she doesn't strike me as a criminal mastermind. Do you really think she orchestrated the kidnapping? In the middle of the day when the whole area was being watched by your people."

"I... I mean, still, she could know things You can't—"

"This is my thing, Tony. Nobody is better at getting people to admit to things they want to keep quiet than me. From what it looks like someone used this agency to make Aiden disappear. She's the cloak. She's not the puppeteer. I know this is an emotional situation for you but just take a second and think about what is happened here."

He back a testy retort and stared at the floor until Pepper spoke up.

"She's right."

"No, stop." His hands were balled into fists. "This is not a democratic decision. I am—"

Pepper stood up at that, not getting all that much closer but just making her presence known.

"Tony, she's a receptionist in a hotel who lives in a crappy apartment on what's barely conceivable as minimum wage. Even if she'd steal a kid, certainly not yours. Natasha is right. It's more likely this agency."

Natasha still hadn't moved but Tony could feel her eyes on his back. "I can get her to spill what she knows about them."

He turned to glare at the widow. "I want to be there."

"You can absolutely not be there."

"Then, no."

Natasha groaned. "Come on, Tony. You can—"

"What, trust you?" He scuffed at her as a cold wave of what could be anything from frustration to fear washed through his veins. "My memory might have a couple of gaps here and there about what happened in the last couple of months, but I do remember the part where you told me to watch my back quite distinctly."

The tension in the room rose. Pepper shot a glance at Natasha but then slowly closed the distance between herself and Tony. Her hand came to rest on his arm, lightly but explicitly to anchor him, to lend him support.

"Let's just take a breath, alright." She didn't pull him closer but kept him from striding off.

"I'm sorry, Tony." Her voice was sincere enough but she was still a spy. "I thought... I thought Steve had told you. I thought that's where all that tension came from. I didn't... I'm sorry. Just let me prove it to you."

Pepper's eyes were moving back and forth between them, but he couldn't get into that now. He'd tell her. Later. Right now... right now Aiden... Peter... right now, the kid was what was important.

Natasha blew out a deep breath. "How about I wear a wire?"

"And an earpiece." He couldn't just let her reign free. This was still about his son.

She pursed her lips. "Fine."

"FRI, anything you can give us on May Parker's schedule."

_**"She is currently at home but has a night shift that starts at 8 pm tonight."**_

Natasha had pulled out her phone, typing away. "I can do that. Anyone else on the shift with her?"

_**"An additional receptionist and an assistant behind the 24h bar, but their shifts end at midnight. She will be solely responsible for the area until 5 am."**_

She nodded along. "Plenty of time then."

He didn't like this. He didn't like any of this. "You have a plan?"

"Of course I have a plan. Can you have FRIDAY send me a memo of all the information she found on that agency?"

He just stood there for a moment, eyes still on Natasha. There was still a strong anchoring calmness from Pepper's hold on his wrist, but still, he waited. Waited for the Widow to look up at him, eyebrows raised at first but as she found him staring she dropped the mist of superiority she had been entertaining. Their eyes still locked, she bowed her head just enough for the gesture to sink in.

"FRI, you heard her."

_**"Yes, boss. It's done."**_

* * *

###

* * *

[author's note: Guys, thank you so much for reading.

Between my personal drama of preparing to move and the universe putting rocks in my way and the global drama of a threatening pandemic, my productivity is in a little pit, waiting to be jump-started.

I do hope all of you are taking all the precautions you can to keep yourself safe and I hope no schools or employers are still making you go out there to work right now. Keep your spirits high and with most of you most likely not in a high-risk group, do think of those who are and whether the decisions you make might add to the current danger before you decide to socialize. 3 ]


	45. Cocktail Hour - Chapter 45

**Chapter 45 - Cocktail Hour**

The windows of the kid's room were darkened. The high August sun still shone strong on the cloudless sky but the boy needed rest and FRIDAY had made sure to keep the light low, to shield the kid's senses. The boy had been asleep when he entered the room and hadn't woken up since. He almost preferred it this way, for now. The kid needed rest and his senses still seemed to be dampened enough that Tony's appearance didn't wake him from his nap.

It was nice, the silence. It gave him some room to think. Some time to look at the boy without seeming creepy. To look at Aiden. At Peter. At his son.

Fuck, what a mess they had gotten themselves into. There were so many different scenarios he had dreamed up over the years, so many ways he had imagined finding Aiden. This wasn't one of them. Not by a long shot. This mess was so tangled Tony didn't even know where to begin with all the problems and complications they were facing. The mystery around May Parker. How the boy had come to live with the Parker's in the first place. His powers and every consequence that brought. Ross. The Accords. The NYPD's feud with Spider-Man. Spider-Man—

The watch on his arm vibrated once and with a short gesture from Tony it projected FRIDAY's alert right in front of him. Natasha was on the move. Had just entered the medical wing. No. This wasn't going to happen. She wasn't getting in here. Not now.

He quietly got up off the chair and stole out of the room. It was only one corner away from the boy's room, down the corridor when he ran into her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Natasha's eyebrow arched. "See how the boy is doing?"

"Stay away from him."

"Tony—"

"I mean it, Romanoff. I don't want you anywhere near him."

"It's a couple of questions. Nothing more."

"No. He's asleep. Resting. Healing. Leave him the fuck alone."

She sighed. "I'm not going to tell him, Tony. I understand that you need time but I need some more information so I can get the best—"

"Information on what? You think he knows what happened? He was two years old!"

"Does he know he's adopted?"

Tony crossed his arms. "Obviously. He knows May Parker isn't his mother."

"Why does he think she's his aunt? Why does he call her that if he was only two and a half years old when he came to live with them?"

"I..." He blinked, eyes darting away from her. He hated it when she had a point. Why indeed? One of those many questions Tony still had to figure out.

"I'm trying to help you. You and the boy."

"He's sleeping. He needs the rest. This... yes, we need to find answers to all that but those things can wait till he's doing better."

"Fine." She blew out a long breath, clear annoyance in her tone. "I'll get ready to drive into town then. I got the equipment. I'll go live before I walk in the building."

He bit his lip, eyes still on her. "I could just hang out at one of the tables. She'd never even know I'm—"

"No."

"Nat, come on. This is about my son."

"Exactly."

It would kill him to sit on the sidelines for this. His head was already swimming with questions and frustration and more questions.

"Tony, you'd never be able to hold back. You don't need me to tell you that. You might have her pinned to the wall by her neck if she breathes the wrong way."

He glared at Natasha. "I wouldn't."

"Really?" One of her eyebrows twitched upwards and she folded her arms in front of her body, mimicking him. "You're telling me if the woman who's had your son for a decade, that son that you've been searching for, put your life on hold for, that your heart bled for... if that woman starts to talk about how she managed to get her hands on him, maybe teases the back roads they used to trick the system you—"

"Stop." His heart rate was elevated. He turned away from her to pace, his whole body buzzing and he had the sudden desire to punch a hole straight through the concrete wall right next to him. "Fine. You made your point."

"I promise I'll be thorough, Tony." There was compassion in her face that rang too true. So true he'd have to convince himself it was fake not to lose his composure. "You don't even have to trust me. Just trust that I know what I'm doing."

Tony gave a sharp nod. Yes. Yes, that was something he could put his trust in. She was the best. Objectively, there was nobody better to get him the answers he was craving. Still, he waited for her to turn away and leave the medical wing before he made his way back to the boy's room.

He opened the door silently. At first glance, the room seemed very much the same, just like he had left it a few minutes ago. Something was different though. Tony carefully stepped to the chair he had vacated earlier and sat back down. It didn't take much skill to notice how the initial calm had left the kid's body. Where there had been a peaceful ease to the way he had slept before, his arms were now lying stiffly on top of the covers, the muscles around his eyes and mouth tense and twitching. It made the remaining marks the gag had left on his face stand out more, that small cut over his eyes as well, as the kid's eyelashes fluttered. They should heal, possibly by the next day. No point in putting his body through more treatments no matter how much Tony hated that they were still on kid's face.

Tony gave him a minute or two before he spoke up.

"So, how long can I plan on this whole 'I'm still asleep' routine to last?"

Right away, the boy opened his eyes just enough to squint at Tony.

"How are you feeling, kid?"

Tired eyes blinked at Tony before he croaked a single word. "Numb."

"Hm. Helen was here then? Gave you another shot?"

The boy gave a tiny nod and scanned Tony's face. "Your cut is gone."

Tony couldn't help it and rubbed a hand across his forehead. Just a reflex. There wasn't any pain to how the cradle worked but it had left him a little dizzy.

"I have a very persistent CEO."

The kid's eyes were still on his face. "They shot you."

Underneath his shirt, Tony could still feel the impact that the bullet had left on his chest. None of them even knew about that one, except Natasha and Helen whom he hadn't been able to hide it from. Nothing the cradle could do for blunt force trauma, so it'd have to heal the old fashion way and there was something comforting about the low throbbing of the bruise when he thought about what the bastards had done to the kid.

"They did a lot worse to you."

The boy looked away at that.

"Kid, it's gonna be—"

"What are you hiding this time?"

Tony froze. The boy turned his eyes back to him, his face a mixture of defeat and annoyance.

"FRIDAY is not talking to me."

"FRIDAY?" Tony shot a glance up at one of the ceiling cameras.

_**"I am talking. I am responding according to the current directives."**_

The boy gave him a look before he turned his eyes up to the AI. "FRIDAY, what happened to the men who took me hostage?"

**_"I am not at liberty to share this information with you at this point."_**

"FRIDAY, how long have I been back at the Compound?"

**_"I am not at liberty to share this information with you at this point."_**

"FRIDAY, do people know about my powers?"

_**"I am not at liberty to share this information with you at this point."**_

Tony's heart rate picked up. He should have seen this coming. He should have expected the kid to ask questions like that.

He didn't look at Tony, just stared down at his hands. "That's what she would always say when you were in the coma. When you were trying to hide what happened with—"

"They are dead, kid. They are gone. I'm not..." Tony wasn't even hiding anything about _that_. He might have been a little over-cautious when it came to containing what FRIDAY knew.

The boy looked up at that. "They... they are? They are dead?"

Tony sighed and pulled his chair a little closer to the bed. He hesitated for a moment, had wanted to take the kid's hand but then changed his mind and just squeezed his lower arm instead.

"Yes. They are. All of them."

There was moisture in the boy's eyes as he nodded. "That's... that's good. I mean, no. Not good. I don't mean it's good. It's not good when someone is dead, it... that's not... not a good thing it—"

"It's alright. It's okay to be relieved, kid. I'm glad they're dead. That you're safe." Tony studied his face. Searching for the right thing to say. "That you don't have to be afraid of them."

The boy's teeth were gnawing on his lower lip, eyes trying to blink away the tears of fear or frustration. Maybe a bit of both.

"They... they know, don't they? They figured it out?"

Tony swallowed hard. Did he remember after all? That call? What Sallic had been saying. Then the kid looked up at him.

"About my powers? They... they found out. They... they couldn't knock me out."

"I think..." Tony tried to get his breathing in check, not to let the wrong thing slip. "I think they figured out that you're enhanced. Not sure... not sure if they made the Spider-Man connection, but..." He had to get a grip. Yes, his son was Spider-Man but this wasn't the place to freak out about that. "But even if they did, it doesn't matter now. They are gone. They can't tell anyone. They can't hurt you, kid. Not... not anymore."

The kid wasn't really looking at him, more like staring at something invisible in the air right next to Tony's head. "I... I remember some stuff. I... I'm not sure if... I'm not sure how much of it was real. It's all... Everything's so..." His eyebrows knitted close in a frown. "So squishy."

"You just need to rest, buddy. Heal."

He shook his head, not really acknowledging that he had heard Tony. "Was... Steve Rogers. Was he really in that basement? I mean, that would... that would mean..." His eyes did find Tony's at that. "He knows? He knows who I am?"

A wave of goosebumps traveled down Tony's spine. "They do. They do know."

"They?" Peter's eyes went wide.

"Rogers. Romanoff. Barton." Tony pursed his lips. "Helen Cho. She treated you, I... I had to tell her."

"It's why Miss Potts is here, isn't it?" Fear was plain on his face. "What's... what's gonna happen? What will they do?"

Tony scooched closer. "They won't do anything. You're safe. Nobody will lay a finger on you, alright?"

"What's gonna happen, Mr. Stark?" Wide hazel eyes looked at him with panic and fear. "What's gonna happen with me now?"

It was like the kid knew to poke at the very thing that Tony had nothing to say to. He had none of the answers. His stomach hurt with the level of incompetence he was exhibiting at this crucial time. He should know. He should be able to do something but he was paralyzed by emotion and lacking half the facts he'd need to even understand everything that added to the mess they were in, let alone solve it. He took the boy's hand at last, rubbing the back of it. He had no solutions _yet_, but he would find one. All he could do till then was to have the kid trust him.

"We'll figure it out, alright? There's a lot about... about these people that we're still trying to find answers to. But whatever's gonna happen, you'll be safe, buddy. I promise you'll be safe."

"You're... you're figuring things out?"

"I am. You don't need to worry about any of that. All you need to do right now is rest and get better. Everything else... everything else we'll figure out later, okay?"

The kid nodded and rubbed his other hand across his face. "I'm sorry—"

"Alright now." Tony forced his lips into a smirk. "You need some food? Something to drink?"

Finally, with a little shake of his head, he settled back into the cushions, relaxed a bit.

_**"Boss, Miss Potts is asking for your presence for—"**_

"Yeah, thanks FRI!" He squeezed the boy's hand before he got up from the chair. "If you need anything—"

"I'm supposed to tell FRIDAY. I know." The kid pulled his hand back on top of his stomach, fingers picking at each other, not even a sideways glance in Tony's direction.

How could he even blame the boy for his suspicions? He had kicked him out, threatened him when he had been supposed to teach and guide him.

"You can trust me, you know that, right?"

But the kid didn't look up, just kept his gaze pinned down to his hand. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

There wasn't much that he could do about this right now. It would need time to bridge what the last week had broken between them. Probably even more time when Tony would finally tell him the truth. For now, the best thing he could do was to figure out this whole messy business not just for himself but also for his boy. To do that, he'd need to find Pepper.

The Compound was still mostly empty, especially on the wing the living quarters were in. Tony found her in the common room, cooking.

"Do you want rice or pasta with the fish?"

He shook his head. "I already ate."

"Oh yeah?" She didn't look up, only opened one cupboard door after the other searching for ingredients. "When was that?"

"Don't know." He shrugged. "Sometime last week."

"Thought so."

"I'm not hungry."

"If you only ate when you think you're hungry you would have starved years ago. Fine. I'll pick then. Rice it is." She pulled a full container from one of the cupboards.

His back leaned against the kitchen counter. A pot with water was already on the stove, boiling. Pepper might have not had a lot of practice recently. Of course, he could only speculate about what had been going on in her life over the last few months, but her work schedule suggested that there was little time for her to practice her cooking skills. She hadn't had that kind of time for years, even when they had been together, time had always been scarce.

Things had been different in the past. There had been a couple of years in their lives when this hadn't been out of the ordinary. When he'd have come up from the workshop to find her preparing lunch or dinner, Aiden happily stacking building bricks in a playpen close by or later on even helping out.

"We haven't done this. Not in a long time."

Pepper didn't look at him, just stirred the rice. "No. I guess we haven't." She bent down, opened the oven and pulled out the tray, checking on the fish, then turned the oven almost all the way down. "How is he?"

"Exhausted." Tony blew out a deep breath. "Suspicious and full of questions."

She grimaced. "When are you planning to tell him?"

"I... I don't know. I guess..." Tony shook his head. "I guess maybe tomorrow or... or when we know more. When I know what to do and... and how to keep him safe."

Pepper didn't press him on it any further and they spent most of the meal in silence both shuffling their food around on their plates more than actually eating until FRIDAY broke the silence.

_**"Sir, Miss Romanoff sent an update to her progress. She made it to Brooklyn and expects to set foot in the hotel May Parker works at in about 30 minutes when all her preparations are done."**_

Tony's eyes shot up at Pepper. He pushed his plate away and got up. "Thanks, FRI."

"Alright, you go ahead." She collected the plates and made for the kitchen. "I'll take care of this. I'll meet you in the lab."

He gave a short nod then strode down the corridor. His nerves were on fire. He didn't really know what to expect. He had no idea how much May Parker knew. All he could do was trust Natasha to get everything she did know out of her.

On his command, FRIDAY pulled up the collection of the research they had been working on. By the time he had set up the connection to Natasha, Pepper walked into the room, eyes just as wide and nervous as his must have been as well. There certainly was some comfort in not going through this alone.

"Alright," Natasha said. "I'm heading in then. I assume you're recording this."

"Obviously." Tony bit his lip. "They have security cameras inside the hotel. It wouldn't be too hard—"

"No." Both Natasha and Pepper cut him off at the same time.

Natasha's voice was incredibly clear even with the hidden wire. "Don't draw any more attention to us than you need to."

"It's also illegal." Pepper's face clearly stated that she would draw the line at blatant illegal stuff.

"Fine. Okay. No hacking the cameras." He pulled a face, but they had a point. There was no need for the video feed other than to satisfy his need to see what the Widow was doing.

He was walking up and down along the length of his workbench. Natasha had made her way into the hotel, into the bar and ordered a fancy cocktail. Then two. It was at the third cocktail that Pepper made him sit down on the chair next to her.

"You're making me lose my mind, Tony."

"Excuse me, if I'm nervous..." He shook his head but sighed as she reached for his hand and squeezed hers back.

Progress was slow. They could only hear what was happening around Natasha. She didn't say anything except for when she ordered the drinks. There had to be a spy trick on how she was emptying the glasses without actually drinking the alcohol. Surely the Black Widow had built up a certain tolerance to strong drinks but she'd still avoid dulling her senses as much as possible.

Losing his patience, Tony hit the button that opened up their mic. "Nat, what's happening."

She didn't answer and Pepper pushed his hand away from the button.

"What? She's not doing anything."

"She's obviously doing something. She's not just sitting there having cocktails."

Tony crossed his arms in front of him. "Or that's what she wants us to believe."

"What happened with you?"

"Wh—what?" He found her eyes waiting for him as he looked over.

"This isn't just a squabble." Her forehead was drawn in thought. "You might have been cautious with Natasha but you never outright distrusted her. What happened?"

Tony bit the inside of his lower lip. This wasn't the time to get into that shitshow as well. Why was everyone so hellbent on airing out all the secrets all at once? He would have to talk to Pepper about everything that had happened and he would do that. At some point. Definitely not right now.

"Pep, I—"

"It's Siberia, isn't it. I knew you were lying about that. What happened?"

His hands were positively sweating now. This was a longer conversation. Not one he was willing to have just before Natasha tried to wrangle information out of the woman who had kept his son hidden for a decade, but Pepper wouldn't let it go.

"You said... you said she told you to watch your back. When you were fighting earlier. That was when things were leading up to Siberia, wasn't it?"

He shook his head. He hadn't even wanted to say that in front of Pepper. It had just slipped out, his self-control not as tight as it should be. "That doesn't matter right now. We'll... we can talk about all this. I'll tell you, but... but not now."

"Who else was at that bunker in Massachusetts. Romanoff? Who else?"

Tony sighed, eyes on the floor. "Rogers. Barton. Romanoff. That's it."

"Where is the rest?"

He shrugged. "They're all over the place. A few false flags to throw off Ross. A few genuine missions."

"Are you... but are you working with them right now?"

"No." He shook his head and made a point to look at her. "No, I'm not."

"But you're still trying to oust Ross."

"Of course."

"And they are, too."

"I... I guess, yeah."

She turned away from him at that, face buried in both her hands. "This is such a fucking mess."

"I know." He kept his distance, just staring at the ground. "I know that."

There were so many levels to all these different fights and agendas it was starting to make his own head hurt to keep to track of everything. Her soft suppressed sobs echoed through the lab and he couldn't blame her for being overwhelmed by everything right now.

"Pep, please..." Tony took a step towards her, still unsure about the level of intimacy that was appropriate between them. "Please, don't cry. I'll... I'll talk you through it and we'll figure this out somehow we—"

She let her arms fall and turned towards him, her cheeks dry, eyebrows drawn in a frown. "I'm not crying."

Right then, he realized that the crying was coming from the speakers, not from Pepper. His eyes went wide. That was Natasha crying.

He shook his head in confusion. "Why is she crying?"

Pepper just shrugged. "How should I know? I didn't go to spy school."

Over the next minutes, the low soft hiccoughs turned into full-on sobs that rang through the speakers, making the hair on Tony's back stand up straight.

"She's just sitting there? Crying?" He needed results. "How is that gonna do anything, huh?"

"Tony, just... I get that you're anxious, just let her do her thing."

It took another 10 minutes, maybe 15 for something to finally happen.

The voice of a different woman echoed out of the speakers. "Miss, is everything alright?"

Pepper looked up, her lips almost moving soundlessly. "Is that her?"

His head tilted, he sent her a look. "She can't hear us, Pep."

"Miss, are you... do you need help? Are you okay?"

Tony tried to concentrate. Tried to remember May Parker's voice. "Yeah. Yeah, must be her." A loud wail rang through the line and Tony cringed. "What the hell is she doing? Is this some kind of a torture routine?"

"I can... I can call someone. Do you... Do you want me to call someone for you?" Parker's voice was hushed and just the right mix of urging and comforting.

"There's nobody to call, I..." Natasha's voice was rough with tears and a distinct slur. "I don't have anyone. Anyone."

Tony sat back down next to Pepper. It was weird on the side of extremely uncomfortable to hear Natasha's voice carry this much pain. Something that didn't seem to be lost on May Parker either, even though the woman was a stranger to her.

"I'm so sorry. Let me... let me help you then. Why don't we—"

"Help me? You think you can help me?"

"I can try?" The soft rustling of a chair being pulled back was all Tony had as a hint of what was going on as May Parker's voice came a little closer. "I'm May. I'm on the night shift here today. What's your name?"

"I..." Natasha blew her nose, her voice still heavy. "Linda."

"Linda, how about we both have a glass of water and you can just calmly tell me what—"

"Calmly? Calmly?" The volume of Natasha's voice picked back up. "Too hysterical am I? This uncomfortable for you, is it? Getting in the way of all you people having a lovely time."

"Please, Linda. I didn't want to imply any of that. I just want to talk. You seem to be having a really bad day and I just—"

"A bad day," Natasha spat out like a curse. "I've had a bad year. A bad decade."

Pepper puffed out a deep breath. "Jeez, she really has that role down, doesn't she?"

He looked over at her but just nodded, still completely lost as to where the Widow was going with all this.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Linda." Glasses were clattering on the table, the sound of water being poured in the background. "You can talk to me if you want."

Natasha huffed out a dry laugh. "You wouldn't understand."

"Why don't you try me?"

"I... believe me. You don't want to hear this. It's not... It doesn't even matter, I..." She sobbed again, blew her nose noisily.

"Listen, I don't know you and you don't know me. I..." Parker cleared her throat. "Whatever it is, you will likely never see me again. Nobody would even know that you told me, right?"

For a moment the line was quiet and all they could hear in the lab were soft noises of the other guests in the background, cutlery clinking on plates, hushed whispered conversations.

"Just give it a try." The comfort and kindness in Parker's voice had Tony equal parts agitated and questioning his hatred towards that woman.

"I..." Natasha cleared her throat. "I'm in the city because... because I had an appointment. An appointment with—" Her voice broke and she tried to stifle a couple of sobs. "With a young woman. I... I was going to adopt her... her baby, but now... now she changed—" Natasha started crying again, swallowing her words.

"Oh Linda, I'm so sorry. I..." Parker was closer now. Judging by the rustling of fabric she might be petting Natasha's arm or back for comfort. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

Natasha cried some more and the other woman was trying her best to calm her down, trying to keep her voice low.

"So..." Pepper cleared her throat. "Natasha is trying to make May Parker intervene, to stop her from making a scene, am I getting that right?

She looked over at Tony and he pulled a face. "I guess? Maybe it's a bonding thing? I certainly wouldn't have thought of that, I can give her that."

The Widow certainly knew what she was doing. "All the big agencies have rejected me because... because I'm alone and... and the hours I work, they said I couldn't but I would, I would be so good. I just... I thought this would be it. After everything, I..." Natasha broke off and pressed out a couple more sobs. Then she just kept talk, telling May a tale about her ex-husband who she said had remarried and the baby pictures he posted on social media after they had tried to have children for years. How they had tried again and again and how nothing had succeeded.

Parker desperately tried to make Natasha keep her voice down, completely oblivious to how she was being played. "Linda, I understand, I do, but—"

"You can't. You couldn't. It's... I get that people think they know but—"

"I do. I do know."

Natasha sniffed in what sounded like a dry laugh. "People like you will say anything so you can avoid a scene."

"Please, Linda, let me be honest with you. Yes, I'm a little concerned for our customers, I am, but believe me, I do... I do know what it's like. I've... I've been there. It's never easy but I do need you to calm down for me right now."

"Oh, now you've 'been there', have you? Are you really that desperate that you would make up something like that? Really May?"

"I... I'm not... I... I have... I lost my son." She whispered so low, Tony had trouble hearing her at all.

Natasha fell quiet. "Wh—what?"

"It was... it was just a freak accident. Nobody's fault. It just happened and we had... my husband and I, it took us years to adopt. I... I do know. I do understand."

Tony had to sit up straight and hold onto the edge of the table. He shot a glance over at Pepper, checking if she had just heard what he had just heard. Her eyes were on the table, staring unseeingly. The expression on her face as blank as his brain felt.

His hand went for the button, his voice flat. "She's lying, Nat. That's not true."

"Tony..." Pepper shook her head at him and he let go of the button.

Natasha was sniffing but kept her voice low now. "What do you mean, an accident? You... you lost your son?"

"I... yes, I..." May Parker's voice broke and Tony couldn't help but stare into Pepper's face. "8 years ago, I... I lost my son. He was in an accident. Believe me, I know how hard it is to want a child and then... and then lose it."

Tony's heart was hammering in his throat. He went for that button once more. "She's lying, Nat. They only adopted one kid. Ask her about the accident. It's impossible that—"

_**"Boss, the connection to the audio transmitter on Agent Romanoff's earpiece seems to have been disconnected."**_

"Did she... did she just mute me? What the—"

"Shh!" Pepper slapped his arm, trying to shut him up.

"I... I don't..." Nervous laughter bubbled out of Natasha, then she sniffed a couple of times before she blew her nose again. "I don't understand. Is this... Do you usually go around and just... just tell strangers that your son died?"

"I don't know, do you usually tell strangers about the trouble you have conceiving a child?" Parker's tone was harsh but teary. It sounded sincere when it was impossible to be true.

"I..." Natasha fell silent for a moment, then her voice was even lower than before. "I don't. I... I never do."

"Me neither."

Both women were quiet now, nothing but the bar's noises echoed through the speakers around the lab.

"That's when they moved."

Tony looked up at Pepper, eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

"8 years ago. That was 2008. That was when they moved from New Hampshire to New York."

"Huh." Tony's brain was blank.

Pepper had stood up, studying the projected pieces of intel FRIDAY was still projecting all around them. "Maybe something did happen."

"Wait, the kid... the kid told me that his parents died in an accident. I... I thought he meant like his foster parents or something, but..."

"Shh, Tony listen."

The Widow's voice rang through the speakers once more. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, it's... it was a long time ago."

"You know if you..." Natasha cleared her throat. "If you want to talk about it..."

Parker actually gave a teary chuckle at that and Natasha joined in. "If I want to talk about it, I will likely never see you again and nobody would know that I told you?"

"Something like that." Natasha spoke a little clearer now, but the emotion was still heavy in her voice. "It's a little different, isn't it? Losing a baby, a pregnancy, that's one thing, but—"

"Yeah." Parker cut her off. "Yes, it's a little different. Both is painful."

"Have you... I—" Natasha blew out a deep breath. "I'm sorry if this is too personal but have you ever like... tried again? Adopted again?"

"We..." For a moment, they were both silent, only deep breaths and a few sniffs were transmitted through the wire. "No. We... we didn't have the money. Banking crisis and all. Had to... erm... lost... we lost our house and... never... it never worked out again."

"I'm so sorry, May. I'm so sorry for your loss."

Natasha's voice was sweet and Tony wanted to gag. "She's fucking lying!"

"Thank you." May cleared her throat. "I'm really sorry for you as well, but I... my colleagues are about to go home. I have to go and look after the bar now. Listen, Linda, let me just... just be careful. I know... I know it's difficult but don't... don't fall for any of these expensive private agencies. Especially the ones that promise you a lot if you just pay them they... just... just don't. Be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"Just... just don't trust them. I... I understand how difficult the process is, how tiring and expensive, but some of them... some of them are bad people, alright. Do not trust them. Try for a privately directed adoption or... or even foster first."

"Why, what... what did they do?"

"They... they are bad actors, okay. They use those children to make money, nothing more. Use your grief to make money. It's... you should stay away from them. Maybe... Listen, I.. I have to go now. You take care."

"May... wait!" The noises in the background shifted and Natasha clearly went after her. "What happened when you—"

"Please. Just—" May was very close to her, her voice clear but low and sharp. "You had... you had a lot to drink. You should go to your room and sleep it off, Linda. It's late. Don't... just go to bed."

"But May, I—"

"Everything alright here, ladies?" A third voice, male, came into the mix.

"Yes, thank you, Jon."

Pepper turned towards Tony. "Who is that? Do they have security in that building?"

"I could tell you if you had let me hack the cameras!"

Tony's head was throbbing. May Parker had to be lying. There was no record of another child and the boy, his child, who was living with her, was very much alive.

"FRIDAY, how's the kid?"

**_"Your son is asleep, Boss."_**

A cold shiver went through Tony's veins. The boy was safe. Of course, he was. He was in bed, resting just like he was supposed to.

They listened to a couple more minutes of Natasha arguing with that Jon guy, but the moment was gone, that much was clear. Even if she would manage to stay it was unlikely that she would get Parker to spill anything else at this point.

Tony had turned back towards the projections, just looking at them like the answer would simply jump off them if he stared just hard enough. "Did you hear how weird she sounded when she talked about adopting from an agency?"

"I'm a little preoccupied with that thing about her dead son, Tony."

"She's lying."

Pepper blew out a breath. "How do you know?"

"There's nothing in the records of another child. And the one they adopted is very much alive."

"Hey, you guys still there?"

Tony lunged for the speak button as Natasha's voice sounded again.

"What the fuck, Nat!"

"You were babbling in my ear," she bit back. "I was trying to work."

"Well, she was lying!"

Natasha was quiet for a moment, only the traffic noises of a still busy street in Brooklyn blaring through the lab. "She wasn't lying."

"What do you mean?" Tony's mouth was dry. "Of course she was. It contradicts everything we found."

"I know that, but she wasn't lying. There's something there. I'm at the car. Will be back within the hour."

Natasha cut the connection but Tony didn't even care. "FRIDAY, re-check everything we know about May Parker."

**_"Right away, Boss."_**

"There's only one adoption case that is connected to the Parker's." He didn't turn to look at Pepper but he felt her step up right behind him. "There are no other birth certificates, nothing. It's impossible."

"You said something about his... his parents?"

Tony did turn at that. "Right." The kid had talked about his parents, his fake parents like he had known them. More than once. That first time Tony took him to the Compound. Most notably that day at the Tower, when the boy had lost control of his senses.

"Yes, he... it was some time in spring. I... FRI, the day Peter came in when he didn't want to go see his aunt and wanted to stay and work instead? What day was that?"

**_"April, 19th, Boss."_**

Pepper shuffled from one foot to the other. "He didn't want to see her?"

"No, he said... I don't... he got really upset, _really_ upset. It's... it's a problem with his senses. He said they usually put down flowers or something and he never likes it. He and his aunt, I guess. FRI, what did he say?"

_**"He said that it was the anniversary of his parents' accident and that they, I quote 'usually go to put down like... flowers or something'."**_

"He didn't want to talk about them. I... I tried, but he just, he completely blocked the whole thing and I... I didn't think that it was my place, I mean, I... it was personal and I... I'm such an idiot."

She held his hand and squeezed it tight. "You couldn't have known. How could you have known?"

"I could have... I should have... what kind of asshole doesn't even—"

"Stop." She pulled him closer, made him face her. "This is not your fault."

Tony huffed and bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, she would say that.

"Tony, we've been here. We've already talked this through. They did this to you." She had both her hands on his face now, forcing him to look right at her. "Someone did this to you. To Addy. You don't get to blame yourself for this." Her eyes searched his face, waiting for a response but Tony couldn't quite bring himself to give in. "We'll fix this, alright. You and me and..." She pulled a face. "and I guess Natasha. We'll fix this."

The corners of his mouth twitched at that. Maybe they could fix this. They could try at least.

He took a deep breath, pulled away from Pepper and made for the door of the lab.

"Tony, what... where are you going?"

Something he should have done a long time ago.

"I will find out what the kid actually knows about his parents and how they supposedly died."

* * *

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_(author's note:_

_So after spoiling you with a bunch of updates I should have maybe saved them and spread it out a bit ;)_

_Unfortunately, I've been keeping to the bed with a major headache, aching limbs, and fever for the past 16 days. Gladly no coughing, so I'm hopeful it'll be over by this week (though I thought the same last weekend)._

_Thank you all for all the comments and follows! Stay safe and healthy.)_


	46. Hide and Seek - Chapter 46

**Chapter 46 - Hide and Seek**

Peter woke up with a start. The room was dark, but right away he could feel that he wasn't alone. He squinted to his right and sure enough, he could make out a silhouette in the chair next to his bed. Still heavy with sleep, his eyes needed to adjust but he had no problem telling who was sitting in that chair. He just needed a moment to accept that it was really him.

"Mr... Mr. Stark?"

Peter waited for an answer that didn't come. At first, he thought the man might have fallen asleep but that couldn't be it. His eyes were wide open. Peter tried to focus on the man's voice more than his silhouette. It was a little unnerving to have him just sit there.

"Sir, is... is everything okay, is—"

"How are you feeling?"

Peter gave his head a little shake. "How am I... I... Mr. Stark, what's wrong?" The man's eyes were somewhere else, not on him, maybe the room was too dark for him to see Peter anyway. "Why... why are you sitting here in the dark?"

"Didn't want to wake you." The man's eyes were still unfocused.

"Mr. Stark, it's... you're kinda freaking me out."

"Huh." He pulled a grimace. "It's a little creepy, right?"

Peter shook his head. "Yeah, I mean... why... what's happening?"

"I need to ask you something."

"O-oh...?" Peter's heart rate sped up at once, his pulse throbbing in his throat.

"When you hacked my server. When you shuffled through all these files—"

"Mr. Stark, I—"

"Just... just shut it for a minute, would you?"

Peter's heart bounced in his chest. The man's voice was heavy but not sharp enough to be angry, moreso impatient. Peter couldn't tear his eyes away from him probably because Mr. Stark was so obviously not looking at him, couldn't even see how frantically Peter's chest was heaving, how wide his eyes were just thinking of how he had gone behind his mentor's back.

"When you went through those files, those videos... those videos you watched. They were personal. You—" Mr. Stark closed his eyes, lips tightly pressed together. "Why? Why did you watch them?"

"I..." Peter tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "I don't know. I'm so sorry, Sir. I had no right to do that, I know I messed up. I'm so sorry."

"Not good enough." The man shook his head, his eyes blinked open and his head turned in Peter's direction, his eyes never focusing on him though. The man really had to be blind in the darkness. "Try again."

"I... I'm sorry—"

"Stop apologizing and tell me the truth. Was it just a dull nosy impulse? Just that?"

Peter didn't even really know why he did it. Why he had kept watching them. How was he supposed to explain something he didn't even understand himself? His eyes stung with just how disappointed he was in himself, how he had messed all this up so bad.

"It... I didn't mean to find them. I... I was just looking for video files from... from the patrols. I just... I... know now that the suit films every time I'm on patrol and—" He stopped himself. No reason to mention how he had tried to destroy all evidence of his betrayal, of how he had been hacking the Spider-suit. "But then... then those popped up and... I just... I couldn't stop myself. They... I don't know. I don't—"

Peter closed his eyes and the tears that had gathered in his lashes rolled down his cheeks. He swiped at them with a frustrated hand. He was always crying. Why was he always fucking crying? He kept his eyes pressed close. Maybe if he didn't see the man... Maybe the words would come to him then. The truth.

"I... I think maybe because... because I don't have anything like that... no... no videos, no photos with my parents, I..." He stopped himself as his voice was cutting out, tried to push the emotions away so that the words could come out instead. "I only have that one... that one picture with them. Everything else... I... I guess... I guess I just... it just made me think about how maybe... maybe what my parents would have been like when I... when I was little—"

Peter stopped as Mr. Stark's hand curled around his wrist, squeezing it tightly. He almost gasped at the strength with which the man held onto him.

"Kid, I..."

"Don't." Peter had his eyes on the man's hand, the fingers tightly pressed onto his skin. He didn't deserve any sympathy for what he'd done. It was no excuse. "I know it was wrong. I had no right... I should have never... I'm—" He bit his lip just in time before another 'sorry' could roll off his tongue.

"Tell me about them."

Peter froze for a moment, then looked up at the man, not sure if he had heard that right.

"Mary and Richard Parker?" Mr. Stark's voice was low, void of any emotion whatsoever. "That's them, right?"

"How... Yo—you know their names?"

Light streamed through the room as Mr. Stark lifted up his phone in the hand not holding onto Peter's arm and for the few second that the room was illuminated the man looked right at him, eyes locked with Peter's, his features drawn in a weird emotion that Peter had never seen on his face before. Then the phone went out and darkness swept over them once again, even darker as his eyes had been blinded by the light.

"I'm quite skilled with the googling." The words sounded very much like his mentor usually did, the dry snark, but his tone was off and it left Peter uncomfortably on edge. "Go on. Tell me."

"They... they died." It was the first thing that came to his mind when he thought of his parents. Even now, after so many years, just an everlasting shadow that hung over everything. "A few years ago."

"What do you remember?"

"I... yo—you mean... from that day?"

"Yeah, what do you remember?"

"I... erm..." Peter swallowed hard. His eyes stung. He usually tried to think about that as little as possible. "I was... erm... 6 I guess, closer... closer to 7. I... I was staying with my aunt and uncle that day and they... my parents, they just never... never came home. I... There was an accident."

"Is that what you remember or what someone told you?"

"I don't..." Peter frowned, eyes cast down to his hands. "I don't understand. Why... why are you asking me this?"

"We... I need to make sure I know everything... what they knew, when they knew it. Every reason they could have targeted you. That I don't miss anything."

His stomach dropped.

"I... I know... I know why."

"You... you do?" Mr. Stark's voice sounded odd, almost like he was about to swallow his tongue.

"The... erm... the internship. They said..." Peter pressed his eyes shut. He had tried to push those memories away, but Mr. Stark was right. To be safe, they had to know what their motives were and the few things that Peter did remember from that day were some of the only indications. The heavy, almost nervous breathing rhythm of his mentor didn't help with Peter's concentration. "They... they said..."

_Leave it to fucking Stark to pick a freak as his favorite intern._

The man was shifting in the chair next to Peter's bed. "Kid... hey, you... you okay? Just—"

"I'm... I'm fine."

Mr. Stark's hand still held onto his arm. It was a comfort he didn't even deserve. They had gone after him because he was supposed to be Mr. Stark's favorite. His favorite intern. Heat was spreading up Peter's neck into his face, hidden from his mentor in the cover of darkness. He had ruined that. Ruined the trust Tony fucking Stark had put into him.

"They, erm... it's... it was the internship thing they... they thought that... that I was your favorite intern. I guess because of all the time I spent in the lab and they didn't know of course..." He hastened to add the one obvious flaw in their plan. "They didn't know of course that... what I did, that I... that I'm not your intern anymore and how I—"

"Hey, just breathe, buddy." Mr. Stark blew out a long breath. "Of course you are my favorite intern. There is literally no competition."

It was said in jest, Peter could tell that much. His tone was playful but the words still stung, teasing the fact how it was more circumstance than true affection that had Peter in that position. He was the only intern Mr. Stark even had. He'd win that hypothetical favorites contest by default, by simple lack of other contestants. It wasn't just that shameful understanding but also the sheer scope of how badly he had fucked things up that had his insights tighten and his lung gasp for air. Even with his spider-reflexes, he wasn't fast enough to cover his mouth before a humiliation whimper rang through the otherwise room. He tried to muffle the shaky exhales but it was no use.

He couldn't pull himself together even for a moment, just for a short conversation where he was simply supposed to answer some questions. The mattress moved and Mr. Stark's hand came to rest on his shoulder. He wiggled, shrunk away from the touch.

"Please, don't. I..." Peter's voice rang hollow, his nose stuffy from his rising emotions. "I don't—"

He stopped when the man's hands flinched back like it had been burned, but he couldn't look up, embarrassed about the fuss he made. Just like a little kid, he couldn't keep it together even for a few minutes, had put them in this awkward position instead. So pathetic that Mr. Stark felt compelled to comfort him even after the whole mess he had to get Peter out of. The man moved back to his chair like a shadow, quiet and slowly. Peter rubbed a hand across his face, doing his best to pull it together. His head hurt, the pain meds likely wearing off. Like a 5-year-old he pressed his eyes closed and pulled the sheet up to his chin, praying for everything to just go back to normal.

* * *

#

* * *

It didn't take long for the kid to fall back asleep but it was almost 4 am by the time Tony left the room. His head was spinning with everything that had happened in the last 48 hours. He didn't know what to think, didn't even know where to start in detangling this chaos.

The Compound was dark and quiet even for the limited amount of people that currently stayed and worked at the facility. Usually, FRIDAY would light up the passages of the corridor while he walked around the premise, but he had told her to keep the lights on low night-time operation. He didn't need them to find his way. When he stepped into the lab, the lights were turned down low as well. Natasha sat in Tony's chair at his workbench, reading through some documents on her tablet. He didn't see Pepper, not until he stepped closer and found her huddled on the workshop couch, only a blanket pulled over her as she slept.

Natasha didn't look up, not until he was close enough to hear her low voice.

"I got something. I looked into their peripheral contacts and—"

"The brother."

Natasha nodded, lips pressed flat. "Mary and Richard Parker."

Tony tried to keep his voice down, not just so his temper would stay in check also trying not the startle Pepper. "How did we not find them earlier? It's right there. It's right fucking there. It explains everything."

"It explains a lot." Natasha still scrolled through one of the documents on her tablet. "Not everything."

"You don't have to whisper." Pepper was struggling to sit upright on the sofa. "I... I'm up. I'm up."

She looked exhausted, which wasn't a surprise after her trip from LA just 24h before. "Pep, it's fine. It's 4 am. We can—"

"I'm up. It explains what?"

Natasha swiped her hand across the tablet and FRIDAY projected the picture of a couple in their late 30s for Pepper to see. "Mary and Richard Parker. Benjamin Parker's brother and his wife."

"It's them?" Pepper frowned. "They are dead?"

Natasha's focus was still on her tablet, still scrolling. "I can't find anything about what happened there. There is hardly any online record of them at all."

"And Addy, he thinks that's they..." She groaned as one of her hands tried to ease a cramp in her arm. That couch wasn't the best place to spent a night, Tony knew that from personal experience. "That Mary and Richard Parker were his parents?"

He cleared his throat and made a point not to stare at the picture of the couple. "Well, they were someone's parents."

His phone was swiftly unlocked and opened up the folder with the documents he had collected over the last few hours. It had been a difficult search, like Natasha he had found very little on the Parker's. There was one document though that had him intensely suspicious, especially in combination with some of the documents he had pulled from Peter's school record back in March. He projected the first one from his phone into the room for both women to see.

"There's a birth certificate that names him as Peter Stanley, lists parents as Rosita and Glen Stanley. Location fits. Date of Birth fits." He swiped to pull up the next file. "Adoption papers from November 2005. Adoptive parents' names listed are May and Benjamin Parker. Peter Benjamin Parker, born August 10th, 2001. I got this one from his school file when I first found out about his identity. They match the document of 'Peter Stanley'," he air-quoted.

Natasha stepped a little closer to the projection. "So, that's how they tried to hide him."

"Possibly."

She shot him a sideways glance. "Possibly?"

"I found a second set of adoption papers." Both Pepper and Natasha looked up at that and Tony brought up the next file. It hadn't been until he actually found and looked into the other Parker's that this particular set of documents popped up on FRIDAY's radar. "Adoption papers from September 2005 for Charles Richard Parker. There's a birth certificate that lists his parents as unknown, place of birth Belknap County in the state of New Hampshire. Adoptive parents Mary and Richard Parker. Date of birth December 17th, 2002."

Pepper's eyes widened and both her hands shot up to cover her mouth. He was sure she'd understood the connection right away but Natasha only looked back and forth between the two of them. "That's a lot closer, right? He was born in February, wasn't he? That's just 3 months."

Tony nodded. "February 25th, 2003." One of Pepper's hand snaked into his, squeezing it tightly. "December 17th is also the official anniversary of my parents' death."

Natasha's eyes flicked over to Tony then back to the date on the document. "Right."

"What do you mean, _official_ anniversary?" Pepper hovered close next to him, but Tony avoided either of their eyes for very separate reasons.

Natasha came closer and squinted at the projection. "That's not a birth certificate though. It's a certificate of live birth."

"So?" Tony frowned as he read the title of the document once more. "What's the difference?"

"A birth certificate is issued by a government entity. A certificate of live birth basically means they simply acknowledge that he's alive. It doesn't hold any weight in proving someone's identity though."

"You mean it's what they used to hide who he really is."

She nodded and looked through the details on the form. "Very likely. Parents unknown, no hospital mentioned only a county in New Hampshire. It's something you usually find with a baby that's left at a fire station or baby hatch or something. With a kid that was abandoned, that doesn't seem to belong anywhere."

Anger coiled in Tony's stomach. His boy had been treated like nobody had wanted him when Tony had been slowly dying inside, longing to hold him in his arm again. He tried to unclench his jaw when it cracked from how tightly he gritted his teeth. Next to him, Pepper stepped from one foot to the other then blew out a long breath.

"Why go to that length?"

He shuddered at what she implied. They could have just killed him. It would have been easier. Why did they hide him instead?

"Does that matter right now?" He pulled his hand away from Peppers and went through the notes on his phone. "The kid told me that he knew his parents. He told me they died in an accident when he was 6 years old."

Natasha nodded. "Well, Mary and Richard Parker sure are dead. I checked out the social security numbers but there are no news sources for an accident. I can find out more, but probably not online. Old newspaper clippings from that New Hampshire community might be archived locally, few of them are digitalized." She had her tablet back in hand, swiping back and forth. "Laconia, New Hampshire is the county seat. There's a public library that might have clipping or I could check out the local paper's basements, or maybe if they somewhat arrived in this century they might have some stuff scanned and organized on a local computer in some rotten basement."

Pepper had her arms crossed. "That would take forever though."

Natasha's eyes were still on Tony. "I'll go right away. I'll be fast, maybe by tonight I—"

"Stop, that's—" Tony blew out a deep breath, trying to get a grip on the agitation in his veins, the amount of unease and nerves that were rushing through him. "The kid has been away since Friday. I've been texting May Parker from his number to keep her suspicions low but there is no point in dragging this out. She will know something is up."

"What..." Pepper softly reached for his arm. "What are you saying?"

Tony bit his lip then looked up at her. "Time's up for this to be researched in secret. I'll go and talk to her."

"Tony..." Natasha had put down the tablet, head tilted at him. "Let's not do anything rash right now."

"I need to know how to protect him and I can't do that if I don't know what I'm even protecting him from."

Pepper pulled on his arm, made him face her. "If you show up at her front door without the boy when he's supposed to be working with you, she'll know somethings up."

"She'll know that anyway when I grill her on her weird adoption history."

"Honey—"

Tony shook his head. "If Nat's right, if she's not a criminal mastermind, if this is... if this is something completely different and if she doesn't know anything about Aiden, then I need her to not make any waves, but I still need answers and I need the boy to be safe. I don't care how."

Natasha stayed quiet which was probably a good sign, but Pepper really didn't seem to like the plan.

"If you're right, if it's true that May Parker and her husband tried to keep something like this hushed up then she'll not just tell you."

"I'll make her."

"Tony, please just think about this for a moment."

"I have thought about this." He pulled his arm away from her, pocketed his phone. "Mary and Richard Parker are dead. Benjamin Parker is dead. Charles Parker seems to be called Peter now and the real Peter Parker just vanished into thin air?"

"It's the kid she lost."

They both fell quiet at Natasha's injection. Yes, that seemed to be the most likely scenario. It was his working theory as well.

"There seems to be only one person who can clear this up." He looked from one woman to the other. "Unless one of you has a better suggestion?"

* * *

###

* * *

_(author's note:_

_Thank you all for the lovely comments. Sadly, I still haven't gotten rid of my raised temp and am supposed to rest instead of pack and move. But all the lovely well-wishes sure made me happy. Thanks for that :)_

_I hope you enjoyed the chapter, the next one will be up shortly.)_


	47. What happened in New Hampshire - Chap 47

**Chapter 47 - ****What happened in New Hampshire, stayed...**

The building was quiet, even for a Monday morning with most people at work and especially considering that school was still on the last couple of weeks of summer break. It wasn't all that early in the morning anymore, but Tony was still a little bit worried that she might not even open the door. After a long night shift, she might just sleep in. It wasn't an excuse to stall himself from knocking on the door. Well, maybe it was. A little bit.

Tony took a moment, collected himself, cracked his neck then took a deep breath. A small ritual, but an effective one that had his 'Tony fucking Stark' mask slip into place before he did knock.

It stayed quiet at first. He waited for what seemed like a little too long, wondered if he should try again when there was a bit of a commotion on the other side of the door just before it swung open.

She was a little more disheveled than he had so far encountered her, but that was May Parker right in front of him alright, looking right at him. It took her a moment. She saw his face but he knew the signs. It was a little choreography that was the same almost everywhere he happened to show up unannounced. People would look at him, a couple of small question marks in their faces like they might have when meeting a random stranger and then they'd see him. Their eyes would widen in recognition, most of them would feel the surprise so deeply that their mouths started to gape. Depending on the person, this could variate from lightly parted lips to full-on jaw drops.

May Parker was not one of the people whose jaw dropped all the way to the floor. She had a little more control of her face. Most of the surprise lingered around her eyes that turned round and wide. Tony didn't quite know where to class that expression on her face. Genuine surprise or nervous worry? If only he could remember more details from that original meeting of theirs. When he had just found the boy's address and shown up at their apartment, but he had not had his guard up that day. Not regarding the aunt to the level he should have in hindsight.

"Mr... Mr. Stark? What..." Her eyes widened a bit more. "Is... where is Peter? Is he... is he okay? Did something happen?"

Tony tilted his head at her, still studying her. It was hard to say if she knew what she was doing. If the concern was put on, it was done very well. Not just the face that was drawn in surprise but also the one hand that was clutching at imaginary pearls. His own arms were in front of him, one hand holding onto his other arm's wrist, in more formal circles a sign of a dignified posture. For Tony right there, it was moreso a practical solution as his fingers traced the nano bracelet containing his combat glove, just as a precaution.

"Maybe we should talk inside?" He kept his voice low, as hard as he found it not to let his anger and frustration seep into it.

"Of... of course." She stepped aside at once and waved him into the apartment.

Tony didn't hesitate at that. He walked right inside, didn't even think twice about heading straight for the living room. A careful glance around the apartment did prove what he had thought he remembered. It might be a cozy place, warm and homey, but that personal family touch was missing. There weren't really any family pictures, nothing at all from when the boy was little. That all made a little more sense now. Tony turned and she had followed right behind him. He pointed to the couch in the middle of the room.

"Please. Sit."

The woman just stood there, frozen. She was only halfway into the room and he really wanted to get himself between her and the door before this went into the next gear. He couldn't have her run. Not that he wouldn't catch her, but he could do without the publicity.

"Mr... Mr. Stark. You're scaring me. What is going on?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I think I asked you to sit."

Her throat was working as she swallowed hard. Her hands clenched into fists as her fingers nervously moved around her thumb but then she complied. She didn't look at Tony as she walked past him and slowly came to sit on her own couch as he had directed her to. She did look back up again after a few deep breaths though.

"Where is Peter?"

He huffed, eyes narrowing on her again. "Peter... that is a good question, isn't it?"

She blinked at him as a shudder ran visibly through her. That was a nice touch. "Please, I don't..." She took another couple of deep breaths. "Where is my... where... where is—"

"Your nephew." Tony crossed his arms in front of him. "Your nephew, or your son?"

"I..." She shook her head. "I don't know... I don't know what you—"

"I did always wonder. He doesn't call you that all that much, you know. His aunt. Only when he gets tired or nervous. I always wondered why but I guess you tried to train him out of that, didn't you?"

Her eyes were wide, straight on him and the fear was written crystal clear all over her face. Natasha had been right about one thing, May Parker really was no criminal mastermind. Honestly, it was astounding that she had made it this far. Without the anonymity the city offered, they would have probably slipped up a long time ago.

"I... I mean, I..." Her eyes were wandering from left to right like she was looking for a way out. "I mean, technically... yes, technically. Of course I've... we've adopted him. But... but it was never a question of... Peter, he... he always preferred it this way, so that's how... that's how we do it."

Her stammering was all over the place, but he had already elected to ignore her deception. "I know what you did." He was looking straight her waiting for her to break the eye contact but she didn't. "I know."

"I... I'm not sure what you think you know, there—"

"Mary and Richard Parker." Tony had pulled out his phone, squinting at the display like he'd need a reminder of the couple's names. Like they weren't already engraved in his memory forever.

"I—Wh—what?" May Parker's face lost the little color that had remained in her cheeks.

"At least that's who the boy says his parents are. Mary and Richard Parker. That's your late husband's brother, isn't it? Richard Parker."

"I... Mr. Stark, I... I don't know what Peter told you. His... his imagination with... with all the trauma when he was little, Peter sometimes tends to... to spin up tales that—"

"Let's not." He had a hard time trying to keep the anger out of his face. Even with years of practice, he was getting close to his limits with this one. "Let's not do this little dance where you insult both of us with trying to pretend that I misinterpreted what the kid said or..." He shook his head in distaste. "Or even worse, imply that he's just making shit up."

He pulled up both the Parker families' adoption papers and had them projected from his phone into the space between himself and the woman on the couch. Her breathing was heavy, eyes darting to the front door of the apartment before she caught herself and turned her gaze down to the floor, away from the projection.

"Where... where did you get these? Those documents are private. I don't... I don't understand how you could—"

"They'd put you in jail for this." He kept his eyes on her, studying every twitch on her face, every muscle she moved. "But you know that, right? You know if this gets out, you'll be in jail for a long time. A long, _long_ time. Even with just the initial identity theft, especially with how serious your home state takes those laws."

She stayed quiet, collected herself before she looked back up, straight at him. There was something in her face that changed at that.

Tony kept his face mostly impassive, all business in contrast to her. "Kidnapping across state lines. Identity theft. Do you need me to add up how many years in prison you're looking at?"

She pulled her shoulders back, held her chin high. "Are you threatening me?"

He couldn't help but respect her fire. "I don't really care all that much what would happen to you." His tone was as light as he could manage. "I do care about what would happen to the boy when your scheme falls apart."

She huffed out a humorless laugh. "_When_ is it?"

"You're not all that good with this, Mrs. Parker. You and your husband might have managed to smudge your trail but it's still there if you know what to look for. I guess after your husband's death, things have been a bit more difficult to hold together."

Her eyes were positively burning now. The husband was a sore spot then. Tony had figured as much. No matter the unsolved circumstances of his passing, it was unlikely that she had anything to do with that particular crime then.

"What do you want from us?"

"Us?" Tony did laugh at that. "I want nothing from the boy."

"I can't give you anything. I don't have anything to give you."

"Well, I think you do." He crossed his arms, eyes narrowed at her. "I want some answers."

"Answers?"

"Yes, answers. I want to know exactly what you did. I want to know why."

"Didn't you just walk in here 5 minutes ago, proudly claiming you already knew what we did?"

He tilted his head at her, careful to swallow his annoyance at her flippant tone. "I know enough. Enough for the police to get interested in this case and do some digging. I think it's safe to assume that you'd rather not have me to take that particular route."

She gritted her teeth.

"The boy's not your son. He's not Peter Parker."

For a moment, Tony thought she'd deny it again, but then her low voice rang surprisingly strong. "He is now."

Tony shook his head. "Try again."

She stayed quiet, her lips no more than a thin line. Tony weighed his approach. _Who_ did she think the boy really was? Just a random kid her brother and sister-in-law had adopted? Just her nephew that she needed to protect? He had to decide on how to play this now. How much did she truly know and more importantly what details was she possibly not even privy to? How likely was it that May Parker would sign a permission slip to allow a hidden Aiden Elliot Stark to attend an internship at Stark Industries if she knew who she had been hiding all along?

"Charles Richard Parker. That's the boy's real name." Tony crushed the inside of his lip hard to drag his mind away from what the boy's actual name really was. He waited another beat for her to speak, but she just sat there, quietly. "Mrs. Parker..."

"We were trying to keep him safe." Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, eyes not on Tony but on the table between them.

"By kidnapping him?"

Her eyes shot daggers at him. "We didn't kidnap him! We protected him. We..." She swallowed hard, an obvious attempt to steady her voice. "We had no other choice. He had just lost everything. _We_ had just lost everything."

Tony had his gaze fixed on her, eyes narrowed. "Tell me what happened."

"Why?" She snarled.

"Because I'm asking you to. Pretty nicely so far."

He had a hard time keeping his tone somewhat civil, even with the increased emotional state May Parker was in. He waited and waited and was just about to open his mouth again to press her for answers when she finally did speak.

"They... It... It was just a short trip. Had been planned for... for months. Mary..." Her face crumbled and she took a couple of deep breaths before she was able to continue. "Mary and Rick, they had organized tickets for this... this show. A circus from China. Only performance in the state was on that weekend. Rick had gotten tickets through someone at his job. Two children and two adults. Both the kids were so excited. They... they loved acrobatics, were always... always practicing little performances whenever Mary and Rick would come over for dinner. Or drop Charlie off when they both had to work late. Petey... Our... our son, they gave him the ticket for Christmas. He was so excited, but then... Peter—then Charlie..."

She shook her head as she corrected herself. Tony's eyes were glued to her, careful not to miss anything, not just regarding that story but also May Parker's body language.

"Charlie, he got sick. A bit of stomach bug. They had planned that trip for so long. It was the only date and Mary, she... she was so sad that she'd have to stay behind, offered me to go instead because she was going to stay home with Charlie. They were... were Petey's godparents. It was a bonding thing. They—they had promised to go, just them and the kids. Mary had even taken the time off from work. I didn't... I didn't want to disappoint my son. He had..." Her voice broke and her hands tightened on the fabric where she was clutching the edge of the sofa. "He had been so excited to go with his godparents. So... so, I offered to take care of Charlie for the day. I stayed home with him, with... with my nephew and then... and then on their way home the... the accident happened. We... we were heartbroken. We lost our child and... and our best friends."

Her hand shot up and covered her mouth, eyes pressed close. He felt for her, of course, he did. He knew all too well what it felt like to lose a child. Even with the miraculous development of the past days, the years of pain were still buried deep in his bones, would never be forgotten. He gave her a moment, used the time to organize his thoughts. Peter Parker, the real Peter Parker had truly died with Mary and Richard then. He had figured as much from all the snippets they had gathered so far.

"There is no information about that accident anywhere. No mention of it." If neither him or Natasha could find it someone must have tried to keep it hidden. "Why? What happened?"

"I..." She swallowed hard, then shook her head, wet eyes looking up at him. "It was just a freak accident. No... no third-party involvement. Likely... likely just a bit of black ice next to the riverbed."

"Likely?" He narrowed his eyes on her. "Your son died in that accident and you didn't bother to find out the details of what happened?"

"Didn't bother?" She huffed out a dry laugh, her eyes hard. "Not all of us have unlimited resources to pay private investigators. Didn't bother..." Her jaw cracked as she gritted her teeth. "No foul play meant they closed the case and that was that. Welcome to the real world, Mr. Stark. Must be a rude awakening in comparison to the cushy life in your ivory tower."

He resisted the urge to cross his arms in front of his body, to physically brace himself against her attack. He wouldn't take the bait, needed to keep his head clear. He'd been accused of far worse.

"So, your son dies in that accident. Your brother and sister-in-law die as well and you just decide to pack up your nephew and make a run for it."

"No," she hissed at him.

"No? I'll need a bit more detail than that."

"The agency, they... we didn't know at the time. Not the extend of it. They..." She swallowed hard. "It was all about the money for them. The contract it... the contract stated that in case of the parents' deaths the agency would regain legal guardianship. We'd... we'd have lost him, too. They would have just taken him back and sold him to someone else. We couldn't... we couldn't risk that."

"That's ridiculous. How could you even sign something like that?"

"Ben, he—" She turned her head away from him, clearly fighting to push down the emotions that came with talking about her late husband. "Ben had done all the paperwork for the adoption. He... he knew so much more about all the small print, all the details. I... I only found out when... when we were on the way to the morgue, that's when he told me. Told me that the agency would likely reclaim him." She pulled in a deep breath, her gaze lost somewhere between the kitchen and the bookshelf. "We had lost our child, our best friends. Ben lost his brother and then... then they were going to take Charlie away from us as well." She shook her head. "We couldn't... we couldn't allow that. Would've never been able to live with ourselves if we had given him up."

Tony's stomach did turn at the thought. Taking a 5-year-old away from the only people he trusted just after his parents were killed. But then... then he hadn't been their son. He was his son. The son that was stolen from him.

"Did you ever even have the contract checked? This doesn't even sound legal. They can't just reclaim a child. It's a human being, not a dog!"

"And when were we supposed to do that? To risk that? Charlie, he..." May Parker took a deep breath, somewhat collected herself. "We had to take him with us when the police called. Couldn't leave him behind. He was asleep in the back of the car and he looked so peaceful. He had no idea, no idea what was going to happen. After everything he had been through before he came to live with Mary and Rick. We couldn't risk having to give up on him. We owed them that and Charlie as well. It was the only way to keep him safe."

Tony's eyes had shifted away from May Parker to the empty space between himself and the table.

_The only way to keep him safe._

What if they hadn't done that? What would that agency have done with his boy? Those people who had hidden his son away in the first place... Maybe they really would have just sold him to the next highest bidder? Who knew where he'd have ended up. Among all this chaos, there was one thing that he was sure about and that was that Peter Parker loved his aunt. Charles Parker. The kid. _His_ kid, he loved that woman, would do anything for her. He wouldn't if they hadn't kept him safe, if they hadn't loved him and cared for him. Yes, Tony could admit that and he could find solace in that.

Not that solace did much for him right now. He didn't need solace, he needed a solution. This whole switcharoo complicated things even more. It smudged the trace of who was to blame for this, who Tony could rip to pieces for it without demur. But his revenge would have to take a backseat for now. There was only one thing that was more important than all that: His kid needed to stay safe. Stay safe... not like he had been very safe recently. Even before this recent kidnapping. Swinging from buildings, being shot at. Facing the Avengers.

Tony felt sick at the thought. There was a lot that May Parker didn't know about the boy's life, how unsafe it really had been over the last months. How much of that had been Tony's responsibility.

He pushed the thought away, looked up at the woman who still sat on her own couch where Tony had put her.

"So when the police contacted you to identify the bodies of your husband's brother, sister-in-law and the boy who died in the that car with them, he just went to the morgue, looked at his son and told the officers that it was his nephew instead. Am I getting this right?"

She swallowed hard and wiped away tears from both her cheeks before she nodded.

It was a decent plan, Tony could give them that. A random accident, a close relative who identified the bodies of a small family. Who would investigate something like that? Who would ever be able to prove or even suspect that Richard and Mary Parker had been traveling with anyone but their own son? Who would even benefit from investigating if Benjamin and May Parker's son had ever been anyone than the boy they were pretending it was? At 5 years old the kid should have been young enough to be made to forget, to accept a different name and swallow whatever story they told him and for any average 5-year-old it might have worked. But not for his son. Not just because he obviously never took to accepting them outright as his parents, but because unlike most children, Aiden Stark was traceable by fingerprints, by DNA.

"Mr. Stark, where... where is he? Where is Peter?"

He looked straight at her, trying not to let the mental image of that traumatized kid in the med bay bed impact the mask he had set on his face. "He's at the Compound. Still asleep, I'm sure."

May Parker's face twitched but she didn't look away from him. "What... what is it that you want from us? What do you want me to do?"

Tony stared at her. He wished he knew. He wished he knew what he needed from her right now, how to fix any of this. He wanted his boy, he _needed_ his boy by his side. The thought of Aiden, of Peter leaving the Compound and going anywhere but home to the Tower with him had the first progenitors of a full-on panic attack brewing in his veins, but he had no way forward right now, saw no pathway that would lead them from their present situation to where he needed all of this to go. Above all, Tony needed more time. More time to weigh options, to find the best solution that would keep the kid safe but also content.

Keeping the boy at the Compound indefinitely would not just require an explanation, it meant that Tony would have to tell him the truth and fast. It would also mean that he would have to tell May Parker. Tell her at least some form of the truth. She wouldn't just go down without a fight. Peter would not just abandon his beloved aunt. Not for the distant promise of a father he didn't remember. Not for Tony.

He needed more time to figure out what to do.

"Nothing. I don't want you to do anything." There was a way out of this, there simply had to be. There had to be something he could do to convince the authorities that needed to be convinced to let him keep his son without revealing the boy's most important secret, for the boy's DNA gave away more than just his ancestry. "You will just keep on doing what you've been doing. Nothing's gonna change."

"I... I don't understand. Why are you here then? What—"

"I need to protect myself and my company from criminals, make sure that the behavior of the people I associate with won't hurt either. I'm sure you can see that."

"Of course. Yes, I... of course. This... you... you don't have to trouble yourself with any of this. We can be out of your hair in—"

"Stop. Don't even bother with that tactic." His eyes were glued to her every twitch and movement. "You can't outsmart me, Mrs. Parker. I do think you're savy enough to understand that. You won't be going anywhere." _Out of his hair..._ He wouldn't have that. This woman would not get to gamble away his son's future just so she could keep him no matter the cost. What the kid would need most was stability, to keep his friends, his life and to feel safe after everything he had gone through. Tony would make sure that he had all that. "I don't want to wake up one day just to find that you pulled the kid out of his environment and moved him to..." He shrugged. "Kentucky or something."

Her breathing was uneven. "You don't tell me what to do. You want to pretend that you care about Peter all you want, but I know people like you. You don't control our lives, you don't get to blackmail me and my—"

"Blackmail." He cocked his head to the side. "That's a big word, Mrs. Parker." Deep breaths. He couldn't afford to lose his temper with her. "I do care about the boy's future. He deserves the best shot he can get and he won't get the shot he deserves if you drag him into the middle of fucking nowhere just to avoid the consequences of your actions. So, you'll stay put. You'll let him thrive right here, in New York City." He took a step closer, unable to hold back. "Let's get one thing straight for now, Mrs. Parker. You don't know me. You don't know people 'like me' or what I'm prepared to do. You know nothing."

"Go ahead then, turn me in. You think you can buy Peter's affection, try and find out what good that'll do you."

Tony narrowed his eyes on her. "He doesn't know, does he?"

"I... of... of course he knows. You... you just said yourself that—"

"He doesn't know what you really did though, does he? He doesn't know that he's not 15. That he's a 13-year-old boy who you passed off as your son. You trained him like a little monkey to take on the identity your son left behind. You stripped him of his own past so he would fit into your life. Does he even know he's adopted at all? That he then just replaced your son? What really happened that day of that accident?"

"That's... that's not... we didn't. We didn't do that! We just protected him from—"

"Yes, yes, it was all for the boy's sake." He shook his head, letting his anger rush through him. "You put his well being above all else which is why you lied to him, tried to keep the memory of his dead parents away from him so he would forget and not ask any questions."

May Parker's face was red, her eyes wide. He had hit a sore spot. It was just a hunch from how uncomfortable the boy was about the memories of his childhood, how obsessed with those videos he found not even knowing that he had been watching himself. Something Tony still hadn't told him about. Something he had lied about, tried to keep quiet about in front of his boy. Tony pushed the thought away. He couldn't dwell on that right now. It would rip him apart.

"You can't control us. We're not your puppets." The woman had stood up it last, pointing a finger at him. "I don't have to do anything you say!"

"You will, if you don't want to exchange your lovely apartment for an even smaller cell."

She did cry at that and there was a part of him that felt like an asshole treating her like so harshly. There was no other option though. He couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't trust what she would do with it. If at the end of the day, she would act in the boy's best interest or her own. If her idea of what was best for the boy would even align with Tony's.

"Mrs. Parker..."

Her face was buried in her hands. Her efforts to hide her sobs were unmistakable.

He sighed. "Mrs. Parker, there is no need for you to fear me as long as you stick to putting the boy's best interests first. As long as you do that I gain nothing by putting you in a cell. I wouldn't..." He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't do that to Peter."

She sniffed out a dry laugh. "And I'm... I'm supposed to believe that."

He waited for her while she rubbed one of her hands across her face. Waited till she looked up at him. "I don't really see a different option for you right now than to believe me."

She looked at him, then blinked a couple of times and sat back down. He didn't stay for much longer. May Parker would need a bit of room to breathe and come to terms with what had just happened and Tony needed all the time he could find to figure out how to tell his son the truth and preferably by then he would know what to do about that truth.

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_(author's note: __Thank you all for reading and the lovely comments. I know it's a cliché but it's true that they help with the motivation to get the chapters out sooner ;)_

_Thank you as well for all the lovely well-wishes! I really appreciate it. Stay safe and social distance where you can!__)_


	48. Paper Trail - Chapter 48

**Chapter 48 - Paper Trail**

The sun had been up for a while, though it wasn't all that high in the sky yet. Peter was just lying on his side, eyes on the window. His head hurt and there was a deep fatigue in his bones that he wasn't quite able to shake. That was probably the concussion, or maybe the aftereffects of the cradle. Dr. Cho had said he'd still need time to recover, spider-metabolism or not.

Mr. Stark had come to see him a couple of times. At least as far as Peter could tell. He hadn't spend all that much time conscious since he'd woken up in that room. The man had still been quite distant and Peter couldn't really blame him. Of course, he was. Peter had tried to get some of the things that had happened over the last days straight in his head, but a lot of it was still a blur. There was a part of him that was honestly thankful for that. He tried to think about that warehouse as little as possible. Their efforts to extract the pin code from him. The joy those men had taken from their work on him. He forced the thought out of his head. That was in the past. That stuff didn't matter.

A lot of those images, those memories were a blur though anyway. Still, after careful consideration he had decided that some things that he kind of remembered must have been more than fever dreams or hallucinations, they must have been true. He did remember seeing Mr. Stark down in that basement. He did remember him being shot at and that had of course turned out to be true. Peter had tried to pin down a coherent version of how he had gotten out of those heavy chains that had trapped him in that chair and it wasn't Mr. Stark face that he saw in front of himself, freeing him. It was Steve Rogers. The Rogues hadn't been an illusion. Steve Rogers had appeared in that hole and ripped off the chains that had held Peter down. The bonds that he had been too weak to break on his own. Maybe Captain America was stronger than him after all. Maybe it had just been the drugs. Either way, they had come and rescued him. Mr. Stark with the help of the Avengers. Some of them at least. Mr. Stark had even confirmed that they knew who he was now.

He owed them his life. He still owed Mr. Stark an apology for breaking his trust. For going behind his back. A proper one, not the stammering sniffling version he's produced so far. Peter couldn't stand the quiet looks, the physical distance the man kept. It made him face how badly he really had screwed up, reminded him of what they once had and how different everything would be from now on.

A deep growl from his stomach pulled him out of his thoughts. He'd had breakfast. That was the first shock of the day. Well, no. The first shock of the day had been when he had woken in the middle of the night and found Mr. Stark sitting next to his bed. That had been the first shock. Miss Potts pushing through the door to his room in the morning bringing him breakfast had been a different kind of shock.

"Good morning."

He blinked at her a couple of times, his mouth all dry. "Mo-morning."

"How did you sleep?"

"I... erm.. okay... okay, I guess."

She had been carrying a tray with a bunch of stuff; a sandwich, some cereal, fruit and a glass of juice. The tray had fold-out legs and she waited for Peter to shuffle up into more of a sitting position before she placed it across his lap.

"Well, that makes one of us." She sighed and massaged her lower neck with one hand.

Peter squinted at her from behind his sandwich, not sure what to say. Not sure how to even begin to have a conversation with Pepper Potts.

She pulled up the chair that Mr. Stark had used earlier, elaborating. "Fell asleep on the couch."

It was outlandish having her sit there and complain about something so mundane, reminded him of those first couple of weeks when he had gotten to know Mr. Stark. Both of them larger than life global pop-culture icons but at such close proximity seemingly so normal. He would have never pictured Pepper Potts agreeing to sit let alone sleep on anything but the most expensive, most comfortable designer furniture money could buy. Well, he had assumed the same of Mr. Stark until he had made friends with those weird couches in his workshops.

He swallowed a large bite of the sandwich. "The one in the lab?"

Miss Potts nodded. "Horrid thing."

"Better than the one at the Tower, though." He froze, realizing what he had just said. "I... I mean, not that I—"

"You slept on the couch at the Tower?" Her eyebrows rose a little, then knitted together. "And the one in the lab here?"

"I... erm... I mean, not like, for a whole night. Just... just a couple of hours."

"You fell asleep on the couch and it took Tony a couple of hours to wake you up and send you home?"

"No, I... no, he—he'd usually send me to one of the guestrooms instead, he wouldn't—" Peter's cheeks burned hot. What was he doing? Was he still doped up? He wasn't supposed to tell anyone about the long hours.

"Tony... Tony let you stay in the guestroom."

"I... no, it... erm, the thing is—"

"It's— Peter. It's alright. You're not in trouble."

He grimaced trying to find better words to back paddle. "No, I'm mean of course. I just... I didn't want to... to imply that Mr. Stark—"

"Hey, it's alright." She put a hand not on him just on the edge of his bed but he went quiet all the same. "Tony's not in trouble either, alright? It's... it's okay."

Her face looked like she meant it, but Peter couldn't shake the feeling that he had said way too much. "It's just... you need to understand, Mr. Stark never like asked me to stay and... and work I was always... always so grateful for the opportunity to just learn from him."

"Okay." She nodded, her face soft, the achy back seemingly forgotten. "Okay. I believe you."

Peter turned down his eyes to the food, his face still hot with nerves. Mr. Stark was going to kill him. Like he didn't already have enough reason to.

"So what kind of projects did you help him with?"

His eyes wanted to shift back to her but he kept them on the sandwich instead, thinking. He needed to be more careful. Couldn't let anything slip that would get Mr. Stark or himself into trouble. Definitely nothing suit related.

"The erm... the tablet was really fun. The Starkpad 7. The... Mr. Stark showed me how to implement the tiny flat cable with the graphic card that stretched it all the way to the processor."

"Well, I'm glad you like it." She blew out a laugh closer to a resigned sigh. "Tony gave me an ear full about it."

"Yeah, well after he had to redesign the whole thing, it completely lost the efficiency of the layout so users could add upgrades later on, so of course he was miffed."

The outburst just sort of bubbled out of him before he even realized and had the sense to stop himself, but he found a weird smirk on her face as he looked up.

"You really did learn a lot working with him, didn't you."

Peter grimaced then shrugged. "He's a great teacher."

She didn't press him on it any further, only waited for him to finish his breakfast. He had thought about asking her about where Mr. Stark was but that would have led to questions of why he wasn't there and that might lead the man avoiding him due to the whole hacking business and he had no idea how much she knew about that. Just in case that she didn't, Peter wasn't wild about bringing it up. So instead he just told her that he liked the cereal and the cut-up fruit and how his head wasn't hurting all that much, which wasn't untrue. The food really helped.

That had been over an hour ago and his stomach was letting him know that it hadn't been enough. He hadn't eaten in more than a day and to his body that felt more like a week. He contemplated asking FRIDAY but then he didn't want to be more of a burden than he already was. There was an 24/7 accessible common room with a fridge that was usually fully stocked and he knew perfectly well how to get there. A little headache was not going to keep his legs from working. The Compound was mostly empty and there was nobody in the halls as he made his way towards the kitchen. The sweats he was in were a little wide and definitely too long but he had folded up the pant legs and pushed up the sleeves. The tiles on the floor were cold but he didn't mind. Even though the Compound was always quite thoroughly air-conditioned to ward off the hot summer weather, the ground was more soothing than chilling.

Thankfully, the fridge was packed. He took a couple of sandwiches and a can of coke to the couch in the adjacent common room. Thinking back, it was weird how uneasy he had felt that first night when Mr. Stark had brought him there. Well, not the fact that he had felt uneasy that night. That had been supernatural, but despite the things that had happened in the last week, the Compound still felt safe, a sanctuary he had never even hoped to envision just a few months ago. He nipped at his coke, contemplating if there was still a way for him to get all that back, even after everything that had happened.

Mr. Stark had come for him. That had to mean something. That had to mean there might still be hope. That maybe... maybe there was a way for Peter to earn back his trust. Maybe not all of it. Maybe it would never be like it had been before, but he had to at least try.

"FRIDAY, where's Mr. Stark?"

**_"Mr. Stark is working on a project at the Compound. He is currently—"_**

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

Peter cursed under his breath. Fine. He binned the wrapping paper and the empty coke can. It's not like he didn't know where he would find the man. Sure, maybe FRIDAY wouldn't let him through the door. He might have to try the workaround he had used when Mr. Stark was in the coma, provided that would still work. He'd find out soon.

The walk from the common room to Mr. Stark's lab wasn't all that long. He'd walked it what felt like a thousand times during the last months. Getting food for them, something to drink, returning plates. He found himself in front of the doors in no time but he was a little surprised when they opened for him without much fanfare. Mr. Stark hadn't changed Peter's clearance then. Or at least not kicked him off the list entirely.

It took him less than a second to lose that bit of hope. The doors hadn't even closed behind him yet and he could just tell that his mentor wasn't around. In fact, the lab was dark and empty and only as he took a couple more steps into the room did FRIDAY turn the lights up one by one. A soft chill rushed through him after all now and he wrapped his arms around himself, rubbed his hands up and down along them to get rid of his goosebumps.

So many hours spent in this very room, though still far less than at the Tower. So many projects and things he had learned. Memories he had made, almost all of them joyful ones. It was possibly his still somewhat recovering brain that was to blame for that onslaught of nostalgia. Something sure had put him in a very reflective mood. He ran a hand over the surface of the workbench in the middle of the room. It wasn't as tidy as Mr. Stark usually kept it. A couple of devices were scattered across it but what was odd was the stack of paper at the far end of the table. Mr. Stark didn't usually keep paper records. Those he did have certainly never found their way into the lab. At best, they made it to his office upstairs. Peter might have brushed it off if he hadn't spotted his name on the very top of the sheet.

* * *

#

* * *

Tony had hardly made it into the building when she intercepted him. It had taken him less than an hour's drive to get back to the Compound and it had not nearly been enough time to digest everything he now had confirmation for.

"What happened?" Pepper's voice was quiet but strong. "Tony, I tried to call you!"

He nodded. It wasn't like he didn't know that. FRIDAY had told him as much but he had needed time to think.

"How is he?"

"He's..." Pepper sighed. "He's up. He's had breakfast. He... Tony, you need to talk to him."

"And tell him what?"

"The truth." She looked away, gave a short shrug. "I don't know, something."

Tony tried to keep his breathing leveled. He wasn't ready for that conversation. He wasn't ready to make a decision that would either change the kid's life forever, turn his whole reality upside down or... He bit his lip. Maybe that wasn't the best option. Maybe he'd been too focused on what he thought was the only way and had completely ignored what was best for the boy. Maybe telling him was the worst idea of them all. Maybe it would break him worse than it was threatening to break Tony.

"He's just been kidnapped and tortured. Is this really the best time to tell him that every adult in his life has been lying to him for years?"

Pepper frowned at him. "As opposed to what? Continue to lie to him? You have to tell him."

His skin felt too tight, his core too cold. "How can I tell him if I don't even know what happened? How can I force him to deal with this when I don't even know how to do that? He's just a kid!"

"That's not—"

**_"Boss, Peter has just entered the lab."_**

Tony's eyes went wide. "He's out of bed? What—" He turned back to Pepper. "Why is he out of bed?"

* * *

#

* * *

Peter had read the first sheet. Then the second. Then the third. There was no way this was real. There was _no way_ this was real. This must have been part of those sickos' plan to get a ransom out of Mr. Stark. He'd never even seen his mentor actually print something out. This couldn't be his paperwork. Printing stuff, that was so 2010. Printing stuff was for old people. Like, really old people. People who still watched TV shows right when they're on air or... or people with a landline. Not Tony Stark.

But there were so many copies of it. So many sheets of paper with detailed chromosome analyses that had his name on them. His own name and then another name.

Aiden Elliot Stark.

A shiver ran through him. There was no way this was real.

batch 001

batch 002

batch 003

batch 004

batch—

Peter swallowed hard as it clicked. These weren't multiple copies of the same test. These were... This was a test that had been run over and over and over again.

The door of the lab buzzed open behind him but he couldn't bring himself to turn around, his grip tight on the documents in his hands.

"You shouldn't be up on your feet yet. You'll be in so much trouble, if Helen sees you in here, you know."

He couldn't move, let alone turn and look at Mr. Stark.

"What is this?" he whispered. Not because he didn't know the answer. He already knew what it was. He knew what it said, but it was like his synapses went on strike sometime last week, maybe sailed off on whatever drug the kidnappers had pumped his system with. He knew but he didn't understand. Was this another fever dream?

"You were supposed to stay in bed." The man's voice was rough, cracking at every other word. "You shouldn't even be here!"

Peter head was swimming with delirium and dizziness but turned around at last and tore his eyes away from the pages in his hands and glanced up at Mr. Stark.

"I... I mean I kinda wanna to say that you can't tell me what to do cause you're not my father, but I..." he snorted, a dry laugh that got stuck in his throat halfway out as he watch his mentor's face fall a little more. "This... this isn't real. Right? This is... this is part of some... of some scheme. I don't even—" Peter shook his head shuffling through the pages again. "Is this... is this what they sent you to extort more... more stuff. Or... or did you sent them this to make them think that—that I'm..." He almost choked on another humorless laugh. "Pretend that I was your son? So... so they'd do what? Think that I was more... more _valuable_ than I really am? So they—they wouldn't harm me? Wouldn't... wouldn't kill me?"

"Kid, I need you to listen to—"

"Don't call me that," Peter spat out. "Not now. Not like—like this."

Mr. Stark still stood at the other end of the lab, had just walked far enough into the room that the doors had been able to close behind him. But now that Peter looked up, he really saw him under the lights of the lab, no color in his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, his whole face, his posture all drawn with sleep deprivation and anguish, the plain turmoil and discomfort his body radiated. Suddenly he realized that all this... that Mr. Stark seemed to think that all this might be very real.

"It's not... it's not true. Tell me, that this isn't true." He wanted to chuck the paper somewhere, anywhere but it was like they were stuck to his hands. "Please, Mr. Stark. This..."

"I'm sorry, buddy," Mr. Stark croaked out. "I'm sorry, but I can't... I can't do that."

Peter's heart jumped into his throat. "But—No... No, it can't— I can't! It's not—It's impossible. I... My... my parents... This... You must be wrong! It—"

He hadn't even heard how breathless and broken he had sounded until Mr. Stark had taken a couple of steps towards him, arms outstretched in a clear attempt to calm him. "It'll be alright. We'll... we'll figure this out, okay?"

Peter shook his head. Figure what out exactly? If this... if this was real what would that even mean? That everyone had lied to him? Everyone? His parents, May and Ben, even Mr. Stark? That everything he knew about himself was a lie?

The papers slid out of his hands at last, slowly fluttering to the floor. This was just not right.

"Did you... did you know? This whole time? Is that why—"

"I didn't. I swear, I didn't know."

Mr. Stark's words washed over him, didn't even register with his brain. "Is that why you came for me? Is that why you... you helped me? The internship and... and the suit—"

"Of course not." Mr. Stark was close now, close enough to touch him though he didn't. "I came to get you because it's you. I had no idea, not until last night or... or the night before. Not until after I got you back here."

How could that be? How could all of this just happen like it did? All a big coincidence that he had been bitten and ended up as Mr. Stark's intern?

"Are you lying?" His voice was not much louder than a whisper, strained with emotion.

Mr. Stark did reach for his hands then. Clasped them both in his. "I swear I had no idea. When... when Sallic called, that was the first time I ever even heard anything about this and I thought they were lying to bait me, but—"

"Oh—oh god, they..." The memories came back to him as if someone had opened a hidden door to a stack of backed-up memory files.

_Say 'hi' to your Daddy, boy!_

A wave of icy coldness ran through him as the voice echoed in the depth of his mind.

"None of that even matters because I would have done everything to keep you safe regardless. For my intern. For... for Peter Parker. I don't know why all of this is happening and who did this. But I will find out. I promise, I'll find out."

It was too much. He couldn't... this couldn't be happening. Peter took a step back and forcefully ripped his own hands away. Mr. Stark's eyes were still on him, he could feel it but he didn't have the strength to meet them, too afraid of what it would do to either of them.

The man cleared his throat. "I can... I can talk you through it if you want. We can... we can take another test. Get a fresh—"

"No," Peter whispered. "I... I want to go home. I want to see May. My... my aunt." His breath caught in his throat. His aunt. "I... I want to go home."

"You still need rest, buddy. You haven't recovered yet."

"I feel fine." He took a couple of deep breaths. "I just... I want to go. I want to go, right now."

He did risk a glance at Mr. Stark then. He was only a couple of feet away but while the man's face was still turned in his direction, his eyes seemed to be lost somewhere between Peter and the back wall, not even looking, just staring into space.

"Please, Sir, I... just... please... please, just let me go home."

Mr. Stark did look at him at that. "I want you back in the room, back in the bed. You're not released from Helen's care yet."

Peter could only blink at him. "Is that... is that an order?"

"Yes." Mr. Stark didn't look at him though and his voice sounded less than sure. "Do you understand? If Helen says... if she thinks that you're ready to go, I'll have someone drive you today. If she deems it appropriate."

"But Mr. Stark—"

"This is not up for discussion, Peter!" The man's eyes were on him now, firm and determined.

The shirt in his tone threw Peter off even more, almost paralyzed him. "Al—alright. Yes."

Mr. Stark dipped his head in the direction of the door and started walking, leaving Peter to try and catch up behind him. Compared to the strong echo the man's shoes left to ring around the hallway, the soft patter of Peter's bare feet made him feel like a toddler, clumsily being led to a timeout. He listened for every step for if his brain was distracted by useless echos he wouldn't have to think, wouldn't have to even try to understand what had just happened. There had to be a mistake. It was the only explanation except... except Mr. Stark didn't make mistakes. None like that anyway.

Then he had to stop abruptly, almost slammed into the man's back who had just made a full stop. A quick glance around him revealed Miss Potts who had just sort of appeared out of the shadowy labyrinth of the med wing. She took one look at Mr. Stark and her face went stoic.

"Hey, is... Tony. Hey—"

His head gave a sharp shake and he started up again, walked straight down the corridor. The door to the room Peter had woken up in was only a couple of corners away. Miss Potts' eyes turned from Mr. Stark to Peter but he avoided her as best as he could. He didn't even know what was really happening. Everything was just so completely going to pieces. He had expected for Mr. Stark to push open the door and usher him into the room but he didn't. He just stood there outside of it and finally turned to look at him.

"Peter. Your internship has been terminated last week. We already settled that."

Miss Potts had actually been hovering to the side of them but at that, her eyes widened and she stepped a little closer. "Tony—"

He extended a quick hand in her direction and waved off her interruption. "Dr. Cho will be in charge of monitoring you and your health indefinitely."

Peter's head shot up at that. "What? That... You can't—"

"Oh, you'll find I can. This is not negotiable."

"But, Mr. Stark, I... I'm..." _Fine_. The cold was creeping up his legs at last. Maybe it was the tiles on the floor, maybe it was this dystopian alternate reality he had somehow wandered into. He wasn't fine. Even he could admit that, but being monitored by Dr. Cho and... indefinitely. It wasn't fair. He didn't want to be prodded and poked at by Dr. Cho. "I don't want that. You... you can't make me do that!"

"Peter." The man's eyes held an intensity that Peter hadn't seen in him before, maybe not in anyone before. "This is about what you need right now. There is no other option because unless you insist on telling May Parker about what happened to you, it's my responsibility to make sure that you're okay."

"But I..." Peter didn't want to be anyone's responsibility. He hadn't asked for this, any of this.

"Do you have a problem with Helen?"

Peter's eyes were still on the floor when he shook his head.

"The regular times. FRIDAY will inform you where to go to meet. Twice a week for now, then we'll see."

For a moment it felt like Mr. Stark was about to reach out for him but he didn't. Instead, he took another step back.

"You will forget about everything you've heard about today. Today and every other day. At the Compound. At the Tower. From... from my files. None of it is of any relevance."

Peter's eyes stung, his heartbeat was in his throat. He did feel the brush of air as Miss Potts walked past him, all the way up to Mr. Stark. She was right between them now, her back turned to Peter but her voice still echoed through the hallway all the same even if it was hushed.

"You need to stop this right now. Tony, what are you—"

"We will not talk about this now."

Her breath caught in her throat in a desperate attempt to argue, but the man sidestepped her and took two steps in the direction they had come from, back towards the lab.

"FRIDAY, when Helen gives her all clear, you will call Natasha to get the boy back home safely."

_**"Understood, Sir."**_

"You'll wait in your room." It took a moment for Peter to realize that Mr. Stark was waiting for a response.

"Ye—Yes, Sir."

He nodded once and walked off into the direction they had come from. Peter still stood frozen, back literally against the wall. Miss Potts stood just opposite him, turned her eyes from the figure of Tony Stark as he was walking away back onto Peter. Her mouth fell open as if she wanted to speak, but she didn't. Her eyes were wide and red; loving and familiar. She knew then. She knew as well. Peter couldn't help but run. He just had to get away from all of this, reached for the door handle on his left and quickly escaped into the room. The door fell shut behind him, rattled in its hinges. He went across the room, paced back and for.

This couldn't be happening. He and Aiden, they couldn't be the same person. He knew who his parents were. His parents were Mary and Richard Parker. There had to be a mistake. The test... maybe the device was broken or... or the samples were messed up somehow.

Aiden Stark. That wasn't him. Aiden Stark was that little boy in those videos who screeched in delight when Mr. Stark would play with him. Who counter numbers for Miss Potts when stacking building bricks into towers. Just because he had no picture like that, no videos like that with his own parents, it didn't mean...

His head hurt, his eyes prickling but he couldn't cry about this. He couldn't cry because it wasn't real. There had been a mistake even if... even if Mr. Stark rarely made any mistakes in his analysis. Maybe... maybe he just really wanted this to be true and that was why—

Why would Mr. Stark want the tests to match? Peter had betrayed him, lied to him, had gotten him extorted. He had to call the Rouges to get him out of there. The people who had almost killed him. Mr. Stark had kicked him out of the internship, had taken the suit. He was sending him home now as well. Mr. Stark didn't want this. He couldn't want this. He despised Peter for what he had done. Why would Mr. Stark ever want someone like Peter to turn out to be his son?

He was just projecting. Just because Peter had come to care for his mentor... former mentor... it didn't mean... it didn't mean that Mr. Stark thought of him as anything more than a somewhat qualified intern. He rescued him, sure. He probably would have done that for any intern. He was a hero after all, an Avenger. And Peter, he still hadn't even apologized for all the things he had done. He had meant to more than once and still, he hadn't found the courage. Why would Tony Stark ever want a coward like that to turn out to be his son?

* * *

#

* * *

The lab was quiet. For now. It wouldn't be for too long, not after Pepper would come to find him, which would only be a matter of minutes. Tony had collapsed in his chair, his back to the lab door. He had to get away. Out of the Compound, back to the Tower and then... just away. He didn't even care if this was running, he just couldn't do it, couldn't deal with any of it for another second. He would put things on hold, put everything on hold, and maybe... maybe take Pepper with him. Maybe she'd forgive him for his weakness. The lab door flew open.

"What are you doing?"

He stayed put in his chair, waited for Pepper to build herself up in front of him.

"Look at me, Tony!" When their eyes met, her voice broke. "Don't. You can't play this hands-off, you'll lose him!"

"Honey, I already lost." He shook his head. He couldn't hold the eye-contact. It was just too much. "I lost years ago. It's over. We—" He looked back up at her. It was over. He knew that all of this was over. There was no point, no benefit for any of them to pretend otherwise but Pepper... Pepper would fight. Of course, she would. That was one of the reasons why he loved her. She would fight and usually win by sheer force of will. It wasn't an option this time though. He tried to put on a reassuring face. He could at least try for her, try to pretend that he knew what was best for all of them. "It's okay, Pep. Let's just go home, alright?"

"No." Her legs twitched, hands balled into fists, she visibly forced herself to stay calm. "No! We've been waiting for this. After everything, after all these years this is not how this ends. You're his father!"

He gave a humorless chuckle. "Please... I'm an overqualified sperm donor at best."

Her knuckles were white. Her fists were clenched so tightly it must have hurt. "Don't you dare! You don't fool me. You know that I _know_! I know how close you were. How close you even are right now, without even know about any of this! You taught him to walk and to talk..."

"Pepper, just... just stop—"

"...you held him, when he had nightmares. You fed him. You bathed him. You—"

"Stop!" He had gotten up and now reached for her, clasped her shoulders to physically stop her rant.

"Please, Tony. We're so close," she said, fighting tears. "He's your son."

"By blood. Yes... yes, he is. But sometimes that's not enough." Tony pulled her into an embrace. He held her so close to his chest he could feel her breath on his neck, could hear the erratic beat of her heart against his chest that pained at the pressure despite the meds. "It wasn't enough for my father and me. Jarvis was the one, who was family to me. That's... that's okay, sometimes—"

She pushed him off herself and he winced at the impact. "Don't. It's me, Tony! Don't fucking try this bullshit on me. You are _not_ your father."

"You didn't even know my father," he spat back.

"I know that you love that boy. And if you send him away now you'll lose him forever." Her eyes were on him searching for a response he didn't want to give. "And that kid you've been mentoring for the last 5 months. This is not just about Aiden. This is about Peter, too. I know that you care for him, Tony. I've seen how much he trusts you, how much you care. If you do this, you'll lose him, too!"

Frustration was bubbling up in him. She said it like he didn't know that. He knew. He knew better than anyone what the consequences of this would be. He could almost feel the pain rushing through his veins steadily turn into anger.

"What do you want me to do, huh? Lock him in that room for another week? Or two? A month? A year? I can't just take him and he doesn't want me. He already has a family!"

"You don't know that! You're not even giving him a choice! You need to tell him."

He blew out a deep breath, nausea creeping up from his stomach at the memory. "He knows."

"He—" That did manage to stop her in her tracks. "What... what do you mean? You... you told him?"

Tony gave his head a bit of a shake. Two seconds later he was half-way across the lab and picked up one of the discarded pieces of paper with the test results off the floor. He held it up for her and then crushed it into a paper ball with both hands. He should have fucking burned those.

Pepper's hand shot up. Eyes wide, she covered her mouth in shock. "He... he found those?" Her voice was muffled. "Oh... oh god, Tony. You... you can't leave him alone with that. You have to explain!"

"Explain what? Like I know what's going on? I don't." Tony picked up the rest of the paper, binned them one after the other. "Why don't you go and explain it or... or maybe first explain it me, how about that?"

He ripped at one of the drawers on the workbench, pulled with all his force, eyes scanning the inside. There. Matchbox. He picked it up, flicked a match against the striker strip and dropped it into metal paper basket. The flame survived the drop but died among the crumpled up test results resulting in a heavy curse from Tony.

"Honey... please, I know this all fucking sucks, that this is awful, but how is he going to cope if not even you can grasp what's happening here."

No. "He'll be fine." He yanked open the drawer once more. Bingo. Lighter fluid. A good splash of that and the next match set the paper into a bright blaze. "He's safe. Safest away from this craziness."

Pepper kept her distance from the flame, obviously trying to ignore it the best she could. "At least give him a chance to think, a choice!"

"There is no choice here, Potts! He wants to go home and his home is not with me. What choice do you want me to offer here? Sleep-overs every other weekend? I can't live like that. I can't give him up every other week. It's not enough! Let him spend his time commuting between the Tower and Queens where anyone could just get to him? Look at how that turned out. It's too dangerous, I'm not going to risk him like that!"

"So, you're just not going to have him in your life at all? You're gonna throw it all away just because you can't have it all?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in an uneven breath. "That's not... We're not doing this."

"You'll let them win, then? Because, because..." Her eyes were unfocused, desperately searching for the right words, the words that would sway him, words to ridicule his reasoning and push him back into this fight. "Because you're scared? Because it's complicated and a little difficult?"

He crossed his army eyes on her. "They don't win. We don't even know, who _they_ are and it doesn't matter. He's alive. He has his..." He waved a dismissive arm in the general direction of the city where May Parker was probably waiting for his boy to come home. "His... his aunt, so he's happy. I have you. And Rhodey. I'm happy. We can always just have a child of our own, if you really want that kind of family life."

"Oh, don't try to be all crass with me."

"I'm tired, Pep." He let his arms fall. There was no way out of this. Even Pepper would need to see that. He stepped closer to her. "I can't fight this. I can't... I can't make anyone _hand_ him over to me. It's too risky. Even if... if I were to decide that I don't give a shit about anything he wants... Hell, even if he'd _wanted_ to ditch his aunt and come live with me, how is that supposed to work? You think his aunt would just stand down?"

"Identity theft. Child trafficking across state lines. They broke a whole bunch of laws with how they switched out those kids, Tony. If you think that I can't find a layer who—"

"And then what?" He threw his arms up in frustration. "We make sure she's in jail and Peter will hate us forever. For-_ever_."

Pepper crossed her arm, not quite looking at him.

"Even if I didn't care about that." Tony shook his head. It's not like he hadn't considered it. He was selfish enough to consider it, if it would keep his kid safe. "I'd have to push for this with the authorities and they could come after him when they realize who he is. When they investigate and realize that he's enhanced. With the Accords, it's been—" He shook his head. It had been a fucking nightmare. He'd already pulled all the strings that could be pulled to protect the kid. Feigned ignorance whenever Ross tried to go there. Did his best to keep the boy close to the ground, out of anything that would pull attention to him and all this would leave him open and vulnerable. If the boy were to live with him, he'd make him a target from the first second he'd sat foot into the Tower. "If they find out who he is... I can't protect him, Pep. Not from the Accords. Not from the bastards in charge. I don't... I don't know how." She looked up at him as he continued. "I should have stopped this years ago. I should have just accepted that he was gone. Put up that damn headstone somewhere. He might as well have drowned in that car with his parents and—"

Her hands grabbed the fabric of his jacket and shook him, physically pulled him out of his rant. "Don't!"

Tony sighed, threw his head back looking up to the ceiling, ignoring the stinging in his eyes and willing the tears not to fall.

"You stood here, not a day ago and you swore on the fucking universe that you would do anything for your—"

"I am!" He brought his hand up to detangle hers from his clothes, his voice raised, the frustration bubbling up again. "This is what is best for _him_. I don't matter in this. What_ I_ want doesn't matter. _He _is all that matters! What he needs." His heart hurt just thinking about it, let alone saying it out loud but there was no denying the truth any longer. "He doesn't need me. He needs... he needs to be safe, happy... He needs a home and... and love and care. He probably needs therapy, too, but not... he doesn't need me." He dropped his hands and took another breath to steady his voice. "He's not safe with me, Pep."

She shook her head. "That's not true."

"If people find out who he is. Spider-Man. Tony Stark's—Tony Stark's son. In Queens? There's no time sharing the kid. He could never hold onto the life he has with his... his aunt."

"And he's safe with this woman? The woman who trained him like a little dog to accept a different name, a different identity just because—"

"Because she tried to keep him safe." His voice wasn't as strong as he had wanted it to be, but it stopped Pepper anyway. "Do you really think I blame her for that?"

"We don't know that. We don't know what her intentions were. What they are now!"

"The kid loves her. She can't be all that messed up the way he adores her."

Pepper shook her head. "Maybe she groomed him. Maybe they conditioned him to only—"

"And if they did, I will find out. There are still a lot of open ends and I don't plan on leaving them unsolved but right now, I'm not gonna rip the boy out of where he feels safe. Where he is safe in anonymity. After everything he's been through, I can't do that to him, Pep." He made an effort to blink away the emotion from his eyes. "It's what you told me 13 years ago. That he deserves a home where he's safe and that I... that I should do what's best for him."

His gaze was resting on Pepper, waiting for her to look up all determined to keep fighting him on this, to find their way out of this. But Pepper Potts' eyes stayed cast down. There was nothing to add because he was right and she knew it. The kid was all that mattered. Nothing else. Not what Tony wanted. Or needed. Just his— the boy. The boy was all that mattered. To keep him safe, Tony would have to keep his distance and there was nothing left to do about that now.

"I'm sorry, Pep," Tony whispered. She leaned into him. The comfort her closeness brought was so familiar. All this time he hadn't even realized how much he had craved to have her back next to him. He held her, her head resting against his shoulder. They just stood there as her tears stained his shirt. It felt cold as it clung to his skin.

"It's alright, darling." He let his hand wander through her hair, while the other pulled her close. "It's alright..." She shook so strongly with emotion he could feel it even past the tremors of his own body. There was no other way. It didn't matter how much his heart would break over this, how much it would hurt to stay away. He wasn't important. Aiden was. Peter was. Both of them. This was about his son's well being, his safety.

Tony's arms tightened around Pepper. The way she leaned into him, the way they just fit, locked in each other's arms... He hadn't even realized how much he had missed this. Her. They had tried to stay away, keep their distance but the last months had proven that they couldn't help but gravitate towards each other's orbits. He couldn't give up on both, Pepper and his boy. He wouldn't live through that. If he'd have to let go of his son, maybe it was only fair that he would at least have Pepper to keep him alive.

"I just wanna go home, Pep. Let's just go home." He pressed his face into her shoulder, giving in to his nerves, his pain. "We'll... we'll find a nice place in Malibu. Finally, sell the old property. Start somewhere new. Or... or take a break first. Just the two of us. Somewhere nice. And quiet. And far, _far_ away from everything."

She gave a small chuckle "You don't want that, darling. You don't—"

"I do. I do want that. I just... I need our lives to not be _this_ anymore. Heartache and hurt and all the loss."

She pulled his head closer to hers, her forehead now resting against his. Tony's eyes were closed, but he felt every inch of her pressed against him, her breath brushing his face.

"I need you, Pep." he whispered. "I can't have you leave again. Please..."

She nodded and he opened his eyes to find hers waiting for him. "No more bullshit!" she whispered onto his lips.

"No more bullshit." He returned her sad smile and drew her in closer. Her lips softly brushing up against his until he opened his mouth, the taste of her so familiar, his arms keeping her close. Their lips moved against each other as he kept one hand steady on her back, holding her because she was still there when everything around him just seemed to slip through is fingers. Those fingers that were now tracing her face, reconnecting with every inch of her skin. Pepper was still shaking in his arms, despite the strong hold he had on her. She pulled away from him and brushed the tears off his face and then her own.

He leaned in closer to give her another kiss when FRIDAY's voice came blaring out of the speakers.

_**"Sir, Peter is here to see you."**_

* * *

###

* * *

_(author's note: Thank you guys so much for the lovely comments! The next chapter is almost done and will be up very soon :D )_


	49. Paved With Good Intentions - Chapter 49

**Chapter 49 - Paved With Good Intentions**

Tony had waited till the last possible moment, till he was already decked out in a his suit ready to get going because. First he had wanted to tell the boy the night before but then he couldn't. Hadn't wanted him to go to bed crying so he chickened out. He hadn't wanted to ruin breakfast either, so he had waited. And waited. And waited. Now he had not just his crying baby boy in front of him but also a pissed PA who'd have to deal with the wreckage Tony left behind. As usual.

"Said no work!"

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. I really am." Aiden was sitting on the couch in front of him, arms crossed, head turned away from Tony in protest. "I would cancel it if I could, Addy, but I can't. I'm sorry."

"Said all day! All day!"

Tony sighed as the boy pushed himself off the sofa and stalked towards Pepper. He slung his arms around her legs and buried his head in the fabric of her pants. She quickly bent to kneel and pulled the little guy close, eyes on Tony in a mixture of sadness and reproach.

This was on him. He had messed up. Messed up big time. Had confirmed the meeting with Obie and forgot to tell her. He never usually confirmed any dates but they had postponed this meeting three times already, which was why Obie had approached him personally in the first place. Tony had been sure that they he had been talking about Friday in three weeks, not two weeks. Could have sworn he had said March not February. Pepper would have been able to fixed this, he was almost certain. If he hadn't forgotten to tell her, she could have likely fixed this. But now people had flown in from around the country, a couple even from Europe and Asia. Board members, department heads. By the time Tony realized the mistake, it had been too late to fix it.

Now his kid was crying on his birthday and this was the last thing Tony had wanted. He had wanted this to be the best day ever. Had wanted to spend all morning with his boy, play around the huge garden grounds of the club until his friends would arrive for the party in the afternoon. The only hope he had was that Aiden was young enough that he would simply forget what a huge disappointment his dad was. Tony's only hope was that he'd do better next time.

He walked over to where Pepper still comforted his son and sat down on the carpet in front of them. One of his hands came to rest on his boy's back and stayed just like that while Aiden still clung to her. It took less than a minute till the boy wiggled himself out of Pepper's hold, turned around and fell right into Tony's open arms.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I'll be as fast as I can be, alright?"

He'd never felt like a bigger asshole and he probably never had been a bigger asshole. What kind of father made his son cry on his birthday?

It took a few more minutes till Aiden calmed down and let Tony wipe the tears off his face.

Pepper had been observing them, but now checked her watch. "You have to go, Tony. You're going to be late!"

"I can drop you off at the club. How about that?" His attention was on Aiden and the boy's eyes widened at that idea.

Pepper was less impressed. "You'll hardly make it on time for that meeting as it is! The club is in the opposite direction."

"Please, Pepper!" Aiden had shuffled around in his arms, big brown eyes turned against her now, his bottom lip positively quivering.

"Yeah..." Tony did his best to copy his son's puppy dog expression. "Please, Pepper."

She raised her eyebrows at Tony and then made a point to crouch back down and talk to Aiden directly. "Here's the thing, honey. If your daddy is late for his meeting, he will have to spend some time to argue with Uncle Obie and then he has to stay at the office a lot longer and when he has to stay longer he might miss your party."

Aiden's jaw dropped. His head spun back around, eyes on Tony. "But Daddy... Don't... don't miss my party!"

Tony shot her a look, then planted a kiss on Aiden's cheek. She played dirty and she knew it. "Alright, I gotta run then."

His boy might have nodded but his arms pulled Tony closer, not willing to let go.

"I love you baby. You be good to Pepper till I get there. I'll be fast and we can try out that bouncy house together."

Aiden let go of him at that, his eyes a different round filled with growing excitement. "Bouncy house?!"

"Ooops..." Tony tilted his head in mock alarm. "Did I say too much?"

"You better go and get your jacket, Addy, so we can get going." Pepper's eyes followed the boy as he made for the stairs, ready to walk up after him. "You better change too, Tony. Your shirt's all wet."

Tony grimaced and rubbed a hand over the wet spot next to his tie. "Shit."

"Just change at the office. There two white shirts in the closet and I'd say another maroon colored one."

"Alright. Thanks for this, Pep."

She didn't answer, just gave him a look as she went after Aiden.

"Bye, baby!" He called up the stairs. "I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"BOUNCY HOUSE!" Was all Aiden bellowed through the house.

Well, at least that Tony had gotten right.

###

The blood in his veins ran cold as Tony stood frozen, Pepper still firmly in his arms. Standing so close to her he had not noticed that her eyes had been fixed on the entrance behind him.

"I..." She cleared her throat. Her hand quickly rubbed across his cheeks, then her own face. "I'll be checking on something I left in your office." She looked right at him, her jaw set, giving him a slight nod. "I'll... I'll be right back."

Slowly, Tony turned around. A shiver ran down his spine when he saw the boy standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Stark, I..." he looked down to his hands, where his fingers were nervously picking at each other.

"Peter." Tony's heart was pulsing all the way up in his throat. His heart rate spiked so suddenly that even without his spider-senses the boy would have surely been able to hear it hammer away.

"Is..." The boy blew out a deep breath. "Are you... is... is everything okay, you—"

"Everything's fine," Tony lied. He turned his eyes away again just so he could breathe, quickly rubbing his own hand over his face in an attempt to get rid of all evidence of emotion. "What... what are you doing here? I... I told you to wait for Helen."

The lab was dead-silent. The only sound was the nervous shuffle of the boy's feet behind him. "I just wanted to... I wanted to... I... I'm sorry. I... I know I let... I let you down and I never—"

"Don't. Just... it is what it is, alright. You just... There's no need for this."

The boy let out a frustrated grunt, his voice thin. "But I am. I am sorry. I just... I don't know what's happening and what... I just wanted... I don't want you to hate me. I'm sorry."

Tony did turn back around to face him at that, shaking his head. "I don't hate you, Peter. I could never. You just... you should go home."

The boy's hand shot up and dabbed at his eyes, a red flush crawled over his face. Tony rested his hands on the backrest of his chair, gripping it tightly, desperate for his body not to shake. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Pepper was gone, had walked up the stairs to his office. They really were alone.

"You never call me that," the boy sniffed.

"What?"

"You never call me Peter. You always call me 'Kid' or 'Pete' or 'Spiderling'," he rambled. "But never Peter."

"It's... it's your name."

The boy shrugged. "I guess... but you, you never..." He swallowed the rest of his sentence as Tony himself was battling his own nervous energy, willing his heart rate to slow down.

"What are you even doing here? You just insisted on going home and I told you to wait for Helen!" The words just blurted out of Tony, his frustration flaring up. He hated this. He hated himself for this and the fucking universe for putting him in this situation in the first place.

The boy's eyes shot up at him. He took a couple of breaths, visibly pulling himself together.

"I... You never said... never said what was going to happen. What I'm supposed to do about... about my... about that DNA stuff. Will you... will you tell May? Does she... does she know?"

"No, she doesn't and I won't. I told you to forget what you saw and I meant that."

The kid shook his head slightly. "But... but, why?"

Tony tightened his grip on the chair, fighting the urge to let his frustration seep into his voice. "Because it doesn't change anything."

The boy's forehead twitched in confusion, his hazel eyes shifted from left to right before he looked back up at Tony. "It... it changes everything."

Tony turned his glance away from him, another wave of frustration rushing through him. He'd just had this discussion. He'd just argued his way through this whole mess. The kid should have never even found out. This made everything just so much worse. He'd been a damn fool to leave that stuff lying around, to print out any of it at all. Reckless, stupid, selfish idiot. Tony's temper bubbled up inside his chest, his emotions all over the place.

"And what good do you think is gonna come from this? Or telling her? Do you want her to give you up, hand you over? Leave everyone you know behind?"

The boy took a step back, closer towards the door, his eyes wide. "I... No..."

"No?" The knuckles on Tony's hands turned white, his grip on the chair as intense as he could muster so he wouldn't move. "Do you want me to force you to stay here? I could try. If she doesn't hand you over voluntarily, should I threaten her with the authorities? Do you even understand what telling people about this would mean for you?"

His legs were screaming for him to pace, but he couldn't give in. The boy was frozen in his spot and Tony wasn't going to undermine himself by nervously running back and forth.

"CPS will probably collect you, put your Aunt in the slammer, 'til they figure out how she plays into my 2-year-old son's disappearance. They'll probably keep you under observation at a safe location for a couple of weeks, maybe a month or so while they try to figure out how _I_ found out about all this, which might lead them to a few dead kidnappers in Massachusetts. That's of course if they aren't clever enough to run a thorough DNA test on the samples I gave them in 2005 right away, only to realize that you have mutant chromosomes."

There would be no avoiding that evidence. Anyone with the most rudimentary knowledge of DNA would clearly see the mutation. Case in point, Sallic and his asshole crew. "If you're lucky, they might realize that yours is a mutation that occurred in the last few years and with some fighting and probably a bunch of favors that have to be paid on my part, they might surrender you to my custody. But you wouldn't be able to go back to your friends or to your school, ever. And your neighborhood crime-fighting? Say hello to the Accords." He bit the inside of his cheeks at the thought of his son's fate lying in the hands of the authorities, of these crooks who had every motive to use the threat to his son's well-being against Tony. Who'd have a field day if they realized Iron Man _and_ Spider-Man were at their mercy.

"Of course if it happens to be a particularly dimwitted detective or judge, they might determine that the DNA just doesn't match and that you can't be my son, well at least not Aiden, mostly because there is no evidence to show that your mutation occurred recently. So, they will register you as a mutant and being underaged they might just put you in some kind of conversion therapy home or who knows what if you're lucky, solitary confinement if not until I find a way to convince them to give me custody. Either way, your identity, you being Spider-Man will be everywhere. Everyone will know who you really are. All of that just wonderful options!"

The kid still just stood there in the middle of the lab, rooted to the spot with his eyes on the ground in front of him. Finished with his rant, Tony finally _saw_ the boy. His body shivering, arms wrapped around himself, tears falling on the tiled floor in front of him.

He was a fucking asshole.

Tony shot another glance towards the stairs. Still no Miss Potts and at this point he was almost relieved that she hadn't witnessed this particular low point. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair before his gaze came to rest on the boy again. He cursed under his breath and took a few hurried steps towards him. His hands were only hovering over the kid's shaking shoulders at first unsure what to do. He had taken this too far, that much was obvious, so far over the line. He needed the boy to lay low, to make sure he would stay away from danger but he never meant to break him like that. Regret and sorrow were bubbling underneath his skin, reluctance to touch the kid in case that would be another misstep. With a deep breath, he blew caution to the wind and lightly let his hands settle on the kid's small frame, steadying him.

Like he had flipped a switch on the boy, his arms reached out towards Tony and the kid pulled himself close to him with a force that knocked the breath out of both of them. Surprise non-withstand, like an instinctive need his own arms curled around the boy, held him as he shook. There was something so inconceivable about the thought that this boy was his boy. Aiden. That the kid he could never even imagine as anything but that two-year-old toddler he had lost was right there in his arms, after all this time. Had been so close for so long.

One of Tony's hands came up and ran through the kid's hair, as his chin came to rest on top of his head. He could still feel a little bump on the back there, where it had been smashed into the concrete floor by one of these assholes. The assholes that had been drawn to his boy because of him. Tony managed to suppress the sob that was trying to escape his throat but not the tears that fell down his lashes into his son's hair.

This was the moment, wasn't it?_ The _Moment. Years, he'd been hoping and dreaming, wondering if he'd ever hold his son again. If they would ever be reunited. Hope had turned into despair with every passing year. All the anguish of not knowing what his boy had suffered, if he could have done something to keep him safe. Tony turned his face, nuzzling his kid's hair, and firmly pressed his lips onto his son's head. He couldn't dwell on all of that right now. Later, there would be time to fall apart, to wrap his mind around the fact that if he wanted to keep his boy safe he'd have to give him up. He pushed the thought aside.

Not now.

"I'm sorry, buddy." He pulled his kid closer, willing him to stop shaking. "None of that is going to happen to you. Nobody is gonna touch you, alright? You'll go home and things will just go back to normal. Everything will be fine. You'll be just fine. You're safe."

The kid was sniffing and sobbing in his arms. He'd make this better. He knew he could make him feel better. His thumb lightly ran up the side of the kid's head, trying to stay away from any spot that might still be tender, from anything that could hurt him even more. He rubbed small circles over his temple like he had done before for Peter. For Aiden.

"It'll be alright. Nobody will know. Nobody will find out. You'll be safe, alright?"

He would make sure of that, no matter the cost. Eyes closed, he gave in for just a moment. The one moment that was his to hold his son, to comfort him. He concentrated on his kid's pulse, could feel his heartbeat on his chest, the fast but steady rhythm. The kid's fists were holding handfuls of his shirt, still pulling Tony close and the sting of the bullet wound on his chest didn't even matter. He told himself, a few more breaths, just another minute then he'd be ready to let go. Just a bit longer. A little bit longer.

It would never be enough. Never. He could stand there until the end of time when the earth beneath them would crumble as the universe imploded and it still wouldn't be enough. It was on him to be stronger than that, on him to be the grown-up and get his own emotions into check. Tony ran a quick hand across his face, swiped the tears away then clasped the boy by his shoulders and pulled him out of their embrace, waiting for the kid to look up at him.

"I talked to your aunt. She thinks you were here all weekend for a workshop thingy. She won't give you any grief about anything. She doesn't know and it will stay that way." If anything May Parker would be relieved that Tony would keep his distance. For a second, Tony contemplated telling him more about that conversation he had had with May Parker, but after everything that would likely end up completely pulling out the rug from underneath the boy.

"You'll meet with Helen from time to time and she'll make sure you're okay. She'll let me know if you're not. If there ever is anything that you think might get dangerous for you, you'll tell her, but there won't be, okay? You'll just... just move on. Go back to... to your life and everything will be just fine."

The boy's eyes widened in surprise. "But..." he sniffed. "When will I see you?"

Tony willed his face not to fall, his eyes not to stray from the kid. "You won't, buddy. Potts and I are going back to LA."

"No..." he whispered. "You... you can't go."

"I have to. I can't stay. Not now."

The boy just stared at him, open-mouthed, tears still running down his cheeks.

Tony swallowed hard. "Maybe... maybe Vision can go on patrol with you from time to time, bring the suit for you. At some point, when... when things quiet down. Some time... some time down the road." When he was a little older. The world might think that Peter Parker was 15, but he knew better. 13. He had taken his 13-year-old son into the middle of a fight amongst the Avengers. He would never forgive himself for that. Never.

The kid blinked a couple of times. Of course. He wouldn't have even considered that yet, the real-life implications that this revelation had for him, but then he just shook his head in protest, mouth working, but unable to utter a single word.

"Don't. Don't argue. You can't be out there on your own anymore. It was a hard push to let you do this when you were a random teenager. But you're not. It's not gonna happen." The boy wouldn't stop crying and it took everything Tony had to pull himself together, to not just break along with him as the kid's world went out of its hinges right in front of him. "It was dangerous before but this..." Tony sighed and pointed a hand back and forth between them. "This puts a different kind of target in your back and that's my fault and I... I'm sorry, kid. But even if I were here to back you up, it's just impossible right now. But... I'll come up with something. Somewhere down the line, I'll... I'll figure something out."

"But, no, I... I'm still the same. Please. I... That's not fair!"

"No, it's not. It's not fair." Tony tried for a small smile. "But that's what's going to happen."

"Please... please, don't! I can still—"

"No. It's not going to happen!" He fought to keep his voice leveled, not to be too harsh. His hands were balled up into fists just to keep them from shaking, to keep a lid on that frustrated energy. "Do you hear me? Just this once you will listen."

The boy looked away. He didn't really acknowledge what Tony had said but at least he wasn't arguing anymore either. That was good enough for now and without the suit, or rather the web-shooters that were safely stored at the Tower, there was considerable less trouble the kid could get into.

Just as Tony was about to turn away, the boy took hold of his arm "This is... You're leaving because of me?"

Tony swallowed. "I'm leaving, because of _me_."

"Bullshit," the boy sniffed.

"Hey!"

"You're doing this because you found out about... about all this." The kid's hand mimicked his, gesturing back and forth between them. "About me. I don't... I don't understand... Why would you... Why would you—" he struggled through the words, his grip firm on Tony's arm.

"I can't stay, Peter."

The kid shook his head with a quick and minimal motion. "You were looking for... for Aiden... for me... for... for years and now you found... you found... found out about... about this and you don't want..." he paused for a deep breath, but his voice came out shaky and weak nonetheless. "You don't even want to... to stay anymore?"

Tony bit his lip, desperate for his own voice to stay level, "You're not Aiden."

The boy flinched back at that, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But... the test... You said that—"

"What I said doesn't matter. You're not Aiden Stark. You're Peter Parker." He hurried along when the boy's face started to fall. "And that's... that's great. You're a great kid. You're perfect, buddy. But I was a fool... I was dumb and selfish. You should have never even found out about this. I..." His voice wavered. He was slowly but surely losing his grip on himself. "I always thought that when I would find my son, everything would just fall into place. My life came to a halt when Aiden disappeared and I always thought... I always thought we'd just be us again when I would find him. You." He blew out a shaky breath. "When I would find you. But you already have a life. You have friends and people who love you."

"You... you wouldn't have even told me? You... you don't want me, because—"

"Of course I _want_ you." He worked the boy's hand off his arm and cupped both of his hands in his own. "Of course I do."

Of course, he did. More than anything. His eyes lingered on the almost faded bruises around the kid's wrists before he slowly the kid's hands dorp with his. As Peter's arms now loosely hung next to his body, he let go of them and cupped the kid's face ever so lightly, tilting his chin up.

"But..." Tony cleared his throat fighting his rising emotions. "But this isn't just about what I want. It's about what's best for you."

"That's not—"

"No, you listen to me." He huffed, frustration making his insides burn. "You're Peter Parker now. I have no right to _take _you. No right to keep you no matter the consequences and there would be consequences. Not if I can't keep you safe. They..." Tony fought not to look away, to let the reality of the situation sink in. "They snatched you twice, kid. You've been back in my life for only a handful of months and they took you, hurt you and threatened to do worse, just to get to me. Without even truly knowing about... about this." He bit his tongue not wanting to scare the boy again. "I need you to be safe and I need you to stay out of Manhattan. Maybe... maybe when you're older. In a few years we could—" Tony shook his head. Now wasn't the time for that. "I hate this. I do. This is not what I want but I need you to be safe so I need to stay away. You'll stay in Queens. Stick to the ground."

A couple more tears fell off the boy's lashes. "Please, Mr. Stark. I just... I didn't pay attention. I can be better. I can be more careful. I'm sorry, I swear, I'll never touch anything you don't want me to again. I swear I won't and... and I don't have to be Peter Parker when I'm with you. I don't care! I can... you can call me whatever—"

"No." Tony put as much determination into his words as he could muster and let his hands fall down to the boy's shoulders. "We're not doing that. This is not... this is not because of anything that you did, alright? None of this is your fault."

"But I..." The kid swallowed hard. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"You're forgiven, okay? It's..." To think how mad he had been at the kid just a week ago and now... now none of that even mattered. "That's all in the past now."

Tony let go of him, preparing himself to get this over with but Peter reached for his arm once more.

"Mr. Stark, please... please, don't go."

But Tony couldn't drag this out any longer or he might give in after all. This was the time to be the grown-up and stick to the hard choices. He turned away, glanced over his shoulder and there she was, back at last. "Pep, do you want to say goodbye to the boy before he leaves?"

Pepper stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, glaring at him. As she came closer her eyes traveled from Tony to the kid, who still looked crestfallen, but had stopped to argue now that Pepper was back. She pulled the boy into a hug right away, one hand slowly stroking his hair, while he tentatively raised his arms and put his hands on her back, hugging her back. Her shoulders shook with stifled sobs and Tony placed his own hand between her shoulder blades. His hand softly rubbed her back until she seemed to have regained somewhat control over her voice. It came out low and charged with emotion, piercing Tony through and through.

"I love you, Addy."

She broke off the hug and cupped the boy's face with both her hands before she placed a kiss on his forehead, her thumb stroking his temple. She let go of him and without another look at Tony, she walked out of the lab.

Peter was quiet now, eyes avoiding Tony's again and he deserved that, he knew. He should have been more careful, should have been able to protect him from this mess. All he could do now was do better.

"Come on, buddy. We're gonna get you back to your room."

With a hand between Peter's shoulder blades he pushed him along the corridor towards the medical unit. It wasn't the struggle he had imagined it might turn into. The kid was quiet, lost in his thoughts as he followed along just next to him. Helen Cho was waiting for them at the entrance to the med wing.

"There you are, Peter." She sent a quick look at Tony, then reached for Peter, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "Well, it's good to see that you regained enough energy to take a stroll, huh?" She shot another quick look at Tony, but he only gave her a short nod as she led the boy down the corridor.

Tony just stood there for a moment and watched them walk away. Peter's head hung low, his shoulder's hunched. He didn't turn to look back and that was a blessing in disguise. Tony turned on his heel. He couldn't stare at the boy walking away any longer. It would do nothing than just torture him some more. He couldn't dwell on how much this sucked, there were other things to think of now. The boy would be safe for now, but the biggest question still remained: Who was responsible for taking his son in the first place?

The boy might be safe _for now _but would never truly be protected unless Tony would find out who was responsible for all this. There was a shadow that suddenly shifted to his right and he was pulled out of his thoughts and almost physically jumped up the wall.

"Jeezes. What the fuck..."

"Someone's gotta keep you on your toes." Natasha's eyebrows shot up as Tony was trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah, my life's been so cushy and stress-free recently. Would hate to let that routine fester."

She nodded. "Right. The fuck are you doing?"

He groaned and kept walking towards the lab. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're being an idiot."

He swallowed hard. "Please, do enlighten me with a better approach."

She huffed out a shallow breath. "Not being an idiot?"

He stopped and turned on her. "Drop him off in Queen, Nat. Please."

Her eyebrows drawn close, she studied his face. "Come on, you can't be serious."

"I need him to be safe." He sounded like a broken record, annoyance flooding his veins.

"With the lady?" She shook her head at him, frown still in place. "Are you sure about this? What's she gonna be able to do if trouble comes to call?"

"Nobody's gonna come to call. You did agree that she's not a criminal mastermind."

Natasha pulled an unconvinced grimace. "Well, I mean, she isn't that, but still..."

"Just drop him off there. Make sure he goes inside."

She huffed out a dry laugh. "And how will I do that? Drag him in by his ear?"

Tony didn't even dignify that with a reproachful look. "There shouldn't be much dragging required. He wants to see his... his aunt." It physically pained him. All of this. He hated all of this.

"You don't have to do it like this, Tony. You can keep him close. He can't be safer than he is with you."

"History begs to differ."

"Tony—"

"Stop. Just... just once can you stop contradicting everything I say and just do me the favor I ask?" He tried to breathe through his anger, get his emotions into check which seemed to be slipping after the events of the last days, all the emotional and physical stress and no rest. "You think I came to this decision lightly? It's what's best for him and I'm done discussing it!"

Natasha didn't answer right away, didn't contradict him again. Not that he was looking for that. He needed them all to just stop humoring this unrealistic fantasy that any of this could end in a happily ever after. This was real life they were dealing with and Tony was enough of a grown-up to face that reality. He had to be, for his son.

"We'll keep an eye on him."

Tony almost choked on his breath. "You think I want Rogers anywhere near my son? I _don't_ want any attention to be drawn to him. That's the whole point of... of all this."

"_I'll_ keep an eye on him then."

Tony shot her a sideways glance at that. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to have her look out for the boy's sake. No matter what had happened between them, he had no reason to suspect that Natasha would take it out on his son.

"Rogers and Barton still in Toronto?"

She didn't answer just looked down at her hands.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm still surprised you got Wilson to separate from Rogers. For the past couple of year, they were attached at the hip." He chuckled. "I guess Wilson was in for a rough awakening now that Rogers' BFF is back in the picture, huh?"

"You're mad. I get that."

"I'm not mad, I'm disappointed," Tony said, taking a swing at his best Captain America frown.

She shook her head. "You're mad. And you're scared." She turned her eyes on Tony again. "You're scared of Steve."

"I'm not scared of—"

"Show me the video."

That did make him swallow his own tongue. "Wh-what?"

"I want to know what happened."

"You... you already know." He shuddered at the absurdity of that idea. "I told you."

"I want to see it."

Tony tried to shake off the chill as memories of that Siberian bunker flashed in front of his eyes. He pushed down the panic that it automatically raised in his bones, pushed away the feeling of defeat.

"I get that you like to watch how I get my ass kicked, Nat, but you'll have to settle for all the other times you witnessed it first hand."

"Just show it to me, Tony."

"It's not for viewing, okay?" His breathing only came in painful short puffs. "It's not for viewing for anybody."

"Your boy saw it."

"Yeah, and I kicked him out to the street after I found out." His temper was running away with him and he was painfully aware that it wasn't a good look. He forced his voice to come back under control. "We fought. I lost. There's nothing more to see than that."

Natasha stayed quiet for a bit. She was either waiting for him to crack and just go with it or thinking of a new strategy to break him. Both were unsettling prospects.

"He talks to him every day, you know." She shrugged. "Well, almost every day. Sometimes the missions mess with the timezones. Tells him about his day, a story about the future, another one about the past."

"I really don't give a shit what Rogers does with his boyfriend," Tony snarled.

"Of course you do." She shook her head. "What he did was wrong. He should have told you. He should have de-escalated instead of... well, of what I assume happened and ended with you injured. Still, Barnes is why he did it, not you. He still trusts you, Tony."

A dry snort that wouldn't stay bottled up any longer bubbled out of Tony. "Don't try that bullshit on me, Nat."

"It's not—" She stopped, looked away from him. "We can't afford to have the two of you drag this out indefinitely. We have to find a way through it."

Tony shook his head, eyes back on the ground. "Please, don't tell him. About... about Aiden. I don't... I don't want him involved, okay? It doesn't concern him. It doesn't concern anyone. He doesn't need to know."

"Tony..."

He looked up at her, unashamed about the pleading in his voice. "The kid deserves to be left alone. To grow up in peace. Please, Nat. I don't want him tangled in all this bullshit."

She tilted her head at him. "Tony, Clint's the one who found those files in that basement, remember? They... Clint and Steve, they already know who Peter really is."

Tony's face went numb. He'd forgotten about that. The last 48 hours had felt like several days if not weeks of stuff happening.

"They will not do anything with that information. Come on, Tony, I know you're worried but they'd never go after your kid. Not for anything."

He crossed his arms in front of himself, pulled them close to him, physically braced himself against the panic in his bones, hoping it would ebb away.

"Tony, I swear if Steve would ever even think of using Aiden for anything let alone threaten him, I would personally kick his ass. So would Clint, but he would never do that."

"Yeah, well, I used to be sure that he wouldn't do a lot of things." His voice was low, his eyes on the ground. He'd have to live with them knowing then. Nothing to do about it. He gave a nod and pressed out a low "thank you" before he turned around.

"Where do I find you after my errand then?"

"You don't."

"What if I want to? Might need some dinner!"

She didn't follow, just called after him. It was a coy game she played. She knew how to find him, master-spy and all. It wouldn't surprise him if she found out about his LA plans already.

"Say 'Hi' to Canada for me," he called over his shoulder. He needed Pepper, then the Tower, then... well. A clear cut.

###

_(author's note: __Guys, thank you so much for the incredibly awesome comments on the last chapter. I loved them all and it really means a lot that you are having such a good time with the story, no matter if it's despite or because of the whump ;)_

_I'm now actively moving over the next week, but I'm hoping to relax with some writing and so that I can post the next chapter very soon anyway. Have a lovely weekend.)_


	50. On the Road With a Spider - Chapter 50

**Chapter 50 - On the Road With a Spider**

Peter had only ever experienced the Compound with Mr. Stark. Well, not just the Compound. The Tower, too. He'd seen other people around the buildings, sure, he had just never interacted with any of them. On purpose, of course. Talking to people could always lead to uncomfortable questions and Mr. Stark had told him more than once what a bad liar he really was. So he had kept his distance from people in the Tower and Compound alike. Just to be on the safe side.

It came as a bit of a relief though, not dodging people. He still tried to keep his secrets close to his chest of course, especially since he didn't exactly know who of them was privy to all the details. But people were nice. Incredible nice, actually. Helen Cho had been nothing but patient with him, explaining things, respecting Peter's... well, his special circumstances. Miss Potts had been warm and kind, but of course all that might just be because they thought he was Mr. Stark's son. Or was it "knew" that he was? They knew he was. If it was true. Which it had to be because Mr. Stark certainly believed it to be true. So did Miss Potts and... well, shit.

There was that one thought that prevailed above all others: Mr. Stark, Miss Potts, they had no reason to believe these tests, to believe all this if it wasn't true. With all his emotions and thoughts muddied from what had happened in those past days, that was the one truth that stuck out like a lonely post for Peter to cling to. The one truth he could measure all the other things against. And as outlandish as things had been ever since Mr. Stark had rescued him, ever since Peter had found out about that secret connection, still nothing could have prepared him for where that had left him now. Nothing could have prepared him for being in close proximity to the Black Widow. Not Spider-Man, but him. Peter Parker, the boy that he still was for all intents and purposes.

The expression on her face had been guarded ever since she had picked him up from the med wing. Or maybe that was just her face. He had always tried to avoid looking at her too closely, even when he had the extra protection of the Spider-Man mask. Didn't want to draw attention. Well, that ship had sailed. He could positively feel her eyes on his skin, but there was nothing he could do. He was supposed to go with her. That's what Mr. Stark had said was going to happen and short of breaking himself out of the Compound and catching the bus instead, there was very little Peter could do about it.

She headed for the car parked right in front of the main entrance and just dipped her head in its direction. "Get in!"

It wasn't that he was scared. The chance that she would try to do something that could hurt or harm him was slim, otherwise Mr. Stark would have never signed off on this. He was absolutely sure about that much. Not for Peter Parker and definitely not for—

He shook the thought from his head. This wasn't the time to mull that one over. Not again. He took a couple of deep breaths, centering himself, pushing the lingering throbbing in his skull further down before he pulled the door open and let himself fall into the backseat.

"What are you doing?" Her eyebrows were raised as she looked at him in the reflection of the review mirror.

Peter's mind was racing. What had he done wrong? She... she had said to get in the car and he was in the—

"Come and sit in the damn front seat. I'm not your chauffeur."

"I... Mr... Mr. Stark said that..." His own voice was pathetically thin. "He said that you would... you would drive me."

"That doesn't make me staff." She waved him to the front again. "Go on. Move."

He hesitated for a moment, sort of hoping that he might come up with a reason why he should stay in the back. It truly felt like every inch of distance he could keep between them would be of benefit, but he couldn't think of a single reason why he should stay where he was. Maybe the collision with the concrete floor had damaged his head after all. Even as he carefully slid into the passenger seat, his mind was blank.

"Jeeze. Don't show too much enthusiasm, please. Rein it back."

He shot a quick look at her from underneath his lashes. Was this her making a joke? Was he supposed to laugh? His heart rate was picking up even more as she started the car. Quickly, he reached for the seat belt, made sure it was buckled properly just in time before the Widow his the gas. He had expected to be pressed into the seat by his body's force of inertia as the car would speed down the road but her driving style was quite tame by comparison. He slowly peeled his fingers from the seat's edges feeling a little silly for being so reactive.

She had her eyes on the road, fingers tapping along to the radio but Peter knew that she was watching him.

"It's okay that you don't trust me." Her voice was soft, almost bordering on chipper but Peter twitched with surprise either way. "In fact, that's a good thing. Healthy suspicion."

He blinked a few times, desperate to jump-start his brain. Was he supposed to agree with her? Tell her outright that he wouldn't trust her or was that a little too rude? It wasn't that he didn't trust her. Well, he didn't but that was more of a background noise though certainly omnipresent in his very bones. No, the thing that he struggled with most, was his fear. He didn't just not trust her, he feared her. Natasha Romanoff, spy per excellence. What if he said something that he shouldn't? Something that might offend her and get him in trouble, or even worse, something that she wasn't supposed to know. A secret. Like he had done with Miss Potts, only worse because the Widow would jump on that. Something he had heard and wouldn't even know he knew. She was supposed to be that good.

"Tony trusts me enough to drive you. That's gotta be good for something."

"Right," he whispered.

"Wow." She did shoot a glance in his direction then. "Tough crowd."

He wasn't going to bite. She was testing him, trying to find his weak spots and Peter wouldn't fall for it.

"It doesn't have to be this awkward. We could just chat a bit. This and that. You know... the things that people talk about. Common interests."

A low snort that he couldn't quite control rang through the car. Peter's voice was far from steady and he wished he was tougher, able to stand up to her with some strength. "What makes you think that we have any common interests?"

"Well, I can think of at least one."

The Widow made a dramatic pause like he was supposed to guess what that one thing was. Like it was so obvious. Peter wasn't playing her game though. He didn't care what she expected, just wanted to never have her look at him again with those eyes that seemed capable of seeing right through his very soul. Maybe she sensed his hostility, maybe she was even trying to stoke it.

"I don't know, how about..." She blew out an exasperated breath. "How about things that happened Siberia? We both seem to share some common interests there."

Peter bit his lip to stop himself from cursing at her.

"Come on. From what I heard you were dying to talk about it last week and I'm still missing some of the finer details."

"Fuck you!" He regretted the words even as they still rolled off his tongue. Great job he was doing at not letting her get to him. Just great. But Romanoff just smirked and her reaction bothered him more than he was really willing to admit. It was like she was laughing at him and he didn't appreciate that one bit.

"Stark men and their loyalty..."

"Shut up." He didn't regret that one even if he hadn't meant for the words to ring as harsh as they did. There was no sense of surprise emanating from her at his outburst though. She wasn't fazed at all. Probably because she was getting the rise out of him she was aiming at, but Peter just couldn't help himself. "You know nothing about me. Or about Mr. Stark for that matter. You wouldn't have done what you did if you were a somewhat... decent person and knew anything about him."

"Somewhat decent, huh?" Her lips still held that smirk though it had lost some of its superior energy. "What makes you think I'm a decent person?"

"Yeah, you're right." He scoffed at her, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. "What was I thinking..."

What he was implying didn't seem to bother her at all at. Maybe she knew it to be true herself. Probably just a spy thing, that she didn't care what other people thought.

"Decency is not a winning feature in this line of work, Peter. You'd do well to remember that."

He turned his face away from her. Where did she come off, lecturing him? He didn't need a lecture on decency or on how to be a hero, not from her.

"You've seen first hand what benefit decency had for Tony, didn't you? His reluctance to share anything is earned." Her voice was low and sympathetic and not for the first time Peter wondered what kind of extensive training someone like her would have gone through to have that kind of control over herself. "It's annoying, isn't it? When people don't tell you stuff. People you're supposed to trust."

"Right." He had a hard time to imagine a scenario in which Natasha Romanoff would not be in the know.

"I get how much you hated it when he tried to keep what happened in Siberia to himself. That wasn't about you though, if that's any comfort at all. He'd not have told anyone if he could have helped it. He keeps these things very much bottled up. You must have figured that out by now." She paused then blew out a hiss. "Shit, I bet not even Pepper knows."

Peter froze. Miss Potts didn't know? Was that even possible? She had been right there at the Compound when Mr Stark was in the coma, but now that Peter thought about it... Yeah, the things he had overheard her talking about to Agent Maria didn't really align with what Peter knew to be true. He swallowed hard, forced himself not to look at the Widow. She knew how to captivate her audience, he'd give her that. Curiosity was chipping away at his resistance even though he was completely aware that he shouldn't let her trick him like that.

"I mean, I don't blame him. That whole thing, Lagos, the Accords, Berlin, Leipzig. All of it. It was such a ridiculous shit show, even for our standards." She wanted him to look over at her, to poke his interest. It was so obvious how she tried to lull him in and still so hard to ignore. "Tony really got lucky with you, didn't he? Sticking up for him like you have."

Peter shook his head, couldn't stop himself. Mr. Stark had seemed anything but happy when Peter had tried to do just that. When he had tried to have his back, the man wanted none of it.

"It must have been really humbling for Tony that you managed to break through his server's security just like that. Believe me, many have tried that and failed." She said it like she was one of them, which she probably was. "Makes a little more sense with everything we know now of course. Same natural instincts, huh? Still, it's really impressive."

Was she trying to flatter him to make him talk? That was so transparent, it was almost offensive. He had no natural instinct like that. He'd just been lucky that he remembered some details about the new encrypting Mr. Stark had used. Some details he might have never thought Peter could utilize. Or wouldn't dare to utilize. What the Widow was implying was off. There was no magical DNA connection that had helped Peter, only the betrayal of his mentor. She could try to flatter him all she wanted, he wouldn't fall for that. Still, to underline the point he turned his head even further away from her, eyes on the New York state landscape rushing past the window.

The Widow sighed. "You don't have to feel bad, you know. It's normal to be curious and it's understandable that you wanted to protect him after everything he did for you. I, too, would have tried to hack that server to at least get some sense of what was happening."

"That's... that's not how it happened, I didn't—" He bit his tongue. No. He wasn't going to spill. Not to her, not to anyone! He crossed his arms in front of himself, as if wrapping them tightly around his body would physically keep his secrets locked inside.

"It's fine, Peter. I don't blame you for what you did." The sympathy she was capable of lacing her voice with made his insides cramp up. "After all, I wouldn't even know what happened if you hadn't."

"What?" His eyes shot over to her at last. "What do you mean, you wouldn't know?"

"None of us knew. Not until last week." She didn't even look over at him, eyes on the road, like it was the most natural thing that they were just chatting in the car. Like they weren't talking about Mr. Stark almost dying. "I think not even Steve really knew in what condition he had left Tony there."

Her face was hard, no sign of insincerity detectable. Still though... He shook his head, eyes back on the little houses flying by outside. "That's no excuse."

"You're right. It isn't."

Her words hung in the silence between them, their implication so clear that it startled Peter. Did she... did she actually fault Rogers for what he did? Was that what was happening? She had been on Mr. Stark's side in Germany after all. At first. Or maybe that had been a ploy. Though she never told Rogers about the Spider-Man connection Mr. Stark had with him. That had to be worth something. In the end though, what did that matter? She had done something, something that had driven a wedge between herself and Mr. Stark.

"What did you do to him?" His voice was still low. He wasn't under any illusion about the possibility of her simply lying to indulge him, but he did want to know what she had. Peter stole another short glance at her. Her eyes were firmly on the road, lips pressed tightly closed. For a moment he was going to let it go, but how could he? "You were with him in Leipzig. You fought with him and then... and then you were just gone." Peter now made a point to keep his eyes at her, his curiosity feeding a part of his brain that seemed to undercut his self-preservation.

"Why? Did you not happen to find video files of our conversation?"

Peter bit his lip. She'd not get him riled up to avoid the question. He readied himself to inquire further but it turned out, that was unnecessary. After a short silence, she kept talking.

"I told him to watch his back." Her face was stoic, not really giving away much.

"You threatened him?"

"I didn't—" She pursed her lips and sucked in a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, I did."

Peter blinked a couple of times, trying to digest what she was saying and a little taken aback by her honesty.

"I was wrong. I didn't know all the facts." She narrowed her eyes not on the drivers in front of them for sure but at whatever was going through her head. "I guess I'm still missing a couple of pointers, but Tony is notoriously tight-lipped about anything that's important."

It was a challenge not to agree with her. Maybe that truly was her tactic. Common ground. Maybe that's how she speculated Peter would turn on Mr. Stark, spill some secrets. His face felt hot, his heart hammered away in his chest. "Is that just your MO? You just... you get people to trust you so you can... can use them when it's convenient? Stab them in the back as soon as they served their purpose? Aren't you... aren't you supposed to have some kind of loyalty for your teammates?"

"I made a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was just shaking him up, making him focus on the team. Helping them." Her head dipped in a subtle shake. "I made a mistake."

Peter's eyes fluttered down, away from her, flustered by how genuine her words rang in the quiet car. "Me too," he whispered.

She did send a glance his way at that. He hadn't even meant to say it out loud, but he just couldn't help himself. It was true, after all. He had made a mistake. The way he had gone behind his mentor's back, the trust he broke... It didn't matter how good he had thought his intentions had been, it had still been a mistake. Peter had let him down.

"Tony doesn't give a shit about any of that, Peter. I'm sure he was angry at first, of course, he would be. But none of that matters now."

He looked down at his hands. "You know him even less than you think if you actually believe that."

"No." She shook her head, making a point to look at him. "You'd be right, with everyone else you'd be right. Not with you."

But Peter wasn't wrong. No matter what she said he knew what had happened. She hadn't seen Mr. Stark that day at the Tower. The look on his face as he had figured out just how much Peter had exploited his trust. The disapproval. The utter betrayal in his mentor's eyes. She hadn't seen how all that had disappeared behind the mask Mr. Stark would wear for everyone else. How with that one big mistake, Peter had become like everyone else. No secret DNA connection would heal that.

"You weren't there." His fingers picked at each other and he couldn't find the courage to look up at her. "You don't know, you didn't see him."

She blew out a deep breath, eyes back on the road. "You're so much like him it's infuriating."

"Shut up," he hissed at her.

"Tell me about the video. Tell me what happened."

Peter actually snorted out a laugh at that. "Yeah, right."

"I can't—" She blew out another deep breath. "I can't help them if I don't know what happened. I need to know."

"Help them? Help them do what? Who even is _them_?"

"Tony. Steve. The team. They need to find their way back."

His stomach turned at the thought and he gave his head one defiant shake. "That's not gonna happen. There's no way in hell I'm telling you. Plus, he doesn't even hate Rogers. He doesn't even want him in the Raft even when I—" He stopped himself, shook the memory from his head not wanting to dwell on how much Mr. Stark had defended the Avengers to Peter even after everything they had done. "He already called you in this weekend. I mean, it's not like he's not already on his way back to... to the team." The word burned on Peter's tongue. On his way back to the chopping block was more like it.

"Wait, no." She frowned. "He didn't. He didn't call us."

"But then..." Peter wrecked his brain for an answer before he stumbled out his thoughts like an idiot. "But then why were you even there? It... it doesn't make any sense!"

"Sallic." She kept looking back and forth between him and the road. "We were tracking Sallic. When reached out to Tony I intercepted the call. That's why we knew. Tony..." She shook her head. "Tony would have never asked for help, not then. He would have walked into the open blaze head first instead of risking another stab in the back."

His thoughts froze as she said that name, circling only around that one name she had just thrown out there like it was nothing. "Sa-Sallic?"

"Yeah, I—" She stopped herself after a glance at his face. "Right. I... Listen, I'm sorry, we weren't more effective. We should have at least kept a better tap on him after Brooklyn, gotten there faster."

Peter's voice was wavering uncomfortably strong. "After Brooklyn?" His head was throbbing again. "What... what are you talking about?"

"Didn't Tony—" Her eyebrows were knitted together closely as she was casting longer calculating looks at him. "Sallic was why we were scouting out that building in Brooklyn. It was one of his hide holes. We came up a... little short on input, but still we should have been able to track him."

"Little short on input." He mulled that one over. So that monster's crew had been the reason why the Rouges had risked the city. "Little short on input, because I showed up instead."

"That... okay, that's absolutely not what I was saying or what I meant."

The hair on his neck was standing up tall.

"Hey, Peter, don't okay?" She reached over to him and as her hand landed on his thigh he braced himself, he didn't even know what for, maybe at least for his senses to send a shockwave through him, a warning to stay alert. That feeling never came though. "Take a breath. You need to calm down."

She was right. His breathing only came in low short puffs. That throbbing of his head didn't even come from the bump on the back of his head but from a piercing panic.

"You didn't know. You couldn't have known. You wanted to protect Tony and that... and that was admirable, brave really."

"And stupid," he pressed out under his breath.

"It's a steep learning curve. You'll get the hang of this."

Peter shook his head, lips pressed tightly together. Not anytime soon, he wouldn't. She sighed and pulled her hand away when it didn't seem like he'd jump out of the car in a full-on panic attack.

"Tony's gonna come around."

"Right."

She fell quiet then, maybe cause she didn't really believe that herself. Did any of them really believe that? That Mr. Stark would change his mind? That he would come back for Peter? He gripped the sides of the seat a little tighter, hoping it would squash the impulse to hide his face behind his hands, to hid away from her, from all of them.

"He's a magnet, you know."

"What?"

"Tony. He draws the eye. Not just on himself, onto everything that moves around his orbit. Not just for the curious bystander, but for people like Ross and Sallic. People that would actively try to find anything to use against him. Something to hold over his head, to threaten him with. It's not an unfounded fear. He's offering you an out."

"I don't want an out."

"I know that, Peter."

"Stop. Stop pretending like you know me!" His own voice rang uncomfortably loud in his ears. "You don't know me!"

"You think I can't draw a line from the kid that tried to beat up Captain America for hurting Tony to your state of mind right now?" She turned her head over her shoulder to study the traffic around them. "Maybe my reputation really has suffered after Germany."

He looked away, out of the window again. She was still trying to manipulate him. Of course she was. She was a spy! But Peter wasn't having it. No matter if she happened to hit the bulls-eye on this, it was just luck. She didn't know him.

"He'd come for you in a heartbeat. You know that, right? He'll be back without hesitating for even a second as soon as you get yourself into trouble."

Peter bit the inside of his cheeks hard, holding out his reaction as long as he could manage. "That sounds more like advise than a warning."

"Advice? I trust by your reputation that you're smart enough to figure that one out yourself."

"So what?" He turned on her, eyes narrowed. "You're saying I just get myself in a bit of a tight spot whenever I want to have a chat with him?"

She shrugged. "Well, I don't know about that. There'll be consequences to luring out Tony Stark."

His eyes shifted back and forth, trying to decipher that. "What's that even supposed to mean?"

"It means that he probably told you to keep your head down. He'll have eyes on you. Probably not just me either. I'd suspect some semi-legal shit that FRIDAY would monitor. It means if there's a sign of trouble he'll be here. What he will do about it then, well, nobody but Tony knows that."

His jaw dropped. Driving him was one thing, but this. "He's having you watch me?"

She waved him off. "_Watch _you might be pushing it a bit."

"That's a yes then." Mr. Stark had actually picked her to monitor him? Peter huffed out a dry laugh. "Consequences to luring him out.. You mean like this weekend?"

"I'd say probably a little worse. Now that he knows who you really are."

It was one thing for Mr. Stark to pretend, but it was insulting of her to think that she could fool him like that. "If you heard that call from the... the guy. Sallic. Taunting Mr. Stark. If you really listened to that then you know that Mr. Stark knew. The guy... Sallic told him. He knew."

"Come on, kid..."

"Don't call me that," Peter hissed at her. His despair was slowly turning into anger. "You don't get to call me that."

She swallowed hard, eyes on the road. The traffic was getting thicker the closer they got to Queens. "You want to guess how man calls Tony has gotten over the year from people claiming they had his son?"

Peter's heart jumped at that. He hadn't even considered that.

"Sallic might have taunted him, but that doesn't mean Tony believed it." Their eyes met and it hit him that she was sincere. "He didn't believe it. He fought me on it even after we got you out."

"He... he did?"

The Widow gave a sharp nod. "Absolutely. He refused to even hear it, went on and on about how he'd know if you were Aiden. He was beside himself with guilt of what they had done to you because of him."

For the first time during their ride back to the city, Peter's eyes stung with unshed tears. Mr. Stark didn't believe it. Of course he wouldn't. Why would he want to believe that Peter was, well... that Peter could be his son? It was mental.

It also meant... it also meant that Mr. Stark really come to get him. That he had come for Peter Parker, not Aiden Stark. It meant he had been telling the truth. Unless the Widow was lying. Unless she was playing him like a fiddle.

"What changed?" There was a lump in his throat that just wouldn't go away. "Why did he change his mind?"

"Reproducible scientific evidence." She made a grimace. "He wanted to prove them wrong. Wanted to prove to me that they were wrong. He ran the test. Turned out they weren't."

Peter's eyes were back on the buildings rushing past outside. He hated that he even cared so much. None of this made a difference. Mr. Stark was going to leave and nothing Peter had said to him had been able to change that.

"Tony just needs some time. It's... it's a lot he and Pepper are dealing with right now. A decade of trauma and self-reproach. I know it doesn't change anything about how this sucks for you, but what they are supposed to cope with in just a couple of days is impossible. Things will get better with a bit of time."

Peter mulled her words over a couple of time tripping over one thing every time. "Miss Potts?"

She shot a glance at him. "You don't know."

"Know?"

"What actually happened."

"I... I thought..." His heart was in his throat. "Mr. Stark said that he didn't really know, that... that they never found out and—"

"No, of course, that's not—" She shook her head. "Not that. Not who's responsible that... yeah, that's still up in the air. No, I mean for them. What—" She stopped herself, lips pressed tightly together. "No, I guess they wouldn't tell you, would they. It'd be too much."

He stared at her for a moment. "Are you? Are you going to tell me or is this one of your games to get me to—"

"No." Her head turned to him, eyes intently on him. "This is not a game. This is..." Her eyes shifted back to the road. "That's not what this is."

He waited for her to continue, almost certain that it would be a ploy, that she didn't really know anything else about what had happened that day than what he'd already found online weeks ago when Mr. Stark had talked to him about his son for the first time. Not that there had been much information. His son had been kidnapped in LA from the private property of a golf club. They were looking for him. He was never found.

"Tony wasn't there. When it happened. He'd left you—" She shook her head. "He had left Aiden with Pepper. Birthday preparations. A couple nannies were involved, but it was under her watch that Aiden was taken."

His stomach flipped. He had never thought about how long they had been in each other's lives and what that could mean for him now. "Miss... Miss Potts was supposed to look after... after..."

"After you. Yes." She pressed her lips closed for a moment then took a deep breath. "The two of them have been searching everywhere. When the investigators stopped. They never did. For years. It's why I called her when we found the results of who you were in that basement."

Peter's eyes were wide, staring at her. "You called her?"

"I did."

"She..." Peter's head was spinning, his voice low and shaky. "She was in my room when I woke up. She came here because of me?"

"Yes. You." She shrugged. "Tony, too, of course. Definitely you."

I made all the sense in the world now. Why she held him after he woke up. The familiarity. Still, it left him with more questions than before. "If she... if she was with Mr. Stark back then does that mean..." His heart prickled with a sudden flutter. "Does that mean they... I mean, that she... Were they... together? Then?"

"Who knows. I mean with Tony's reputation anything is—" She stopped herself and shot a glance at him. "Sorry. I don't know. Tony has always kept his personal life very close to his chest. His real personal life. Especially when came to his family. His son."

His family. Peter's heart gave a painful thump in his chest. It brought Peter's thoughts back to circle around her original request. Back to what had happened in Siberia. It had been personal. Personal to Mr. Stark, not just because of what Rogers had done, not just because he had lied and fought him, that much was clear now. It was about Mr. Stark's family. What Rogers had lied about. Details that nobody had a right to keep from him. That nobody had a right to keep him from knowing.

No. Peter shook his head. "I can't tell you."

For a moment, she was quiet, her eyes studying the cars pulling in and out of traffic in front of them. "I don't expect you to trust me. This is not about sharing secrets with me. I already know that part. I know what Barnes did. It's simply about what happened that day."

"You know?" His eyes widened, his brain kicked into overdrive.

"I've known for 2 years."

"2... 2 years?" Heat shot into Peter's face. Hot, fierce anger twisted inside his gut. "Oh my god, how could you not—"

"I know. I thought Steve had told him a long time ago, I—" she shook her head and stopped herself. "It doesn't matter. It's done now. I can't do anything about that. I just need to know how to fix it."

He didn't even see the houses rushing by outside anymore, lost in his thoughts. 2 years. They had known for 2 years and never told him. That... he must be...

"Does he know?" Peter cleared his throat. He sounded so breathless. "Did you tell him? That you've known all this time?"

Her nod was curt. "I did."

It felt weirdly personal, even though Peter of course hadn't known them, would have never met them either way. It wasn't really that connection that stung. He hurt for Mr. Stark and it had nothing to do with genetics. He just hurt because of how hard that must have hit his mentor. Betrayed, again.

"What do you even want to know from me then? You already know what they were fighting about. What would you even be able to do with any of that?"

"I won't know till I hear it, will I?"

Peter turned away from her. They were getting closer to his block. There wasn't much time left now, he had almost made it without spilling the beans. The beans that Mr. Stark had very deliberately put behind the strongest firewall he had.

Her hands tabbed a short rhythm on the steering wheel before they stopped, gripping the leather tightly. "Alright, let me ask you this. Why do you think Tony is keeping this hidden? The video. What happened. With the injuries he suffered, why keep it hidden?"

It was a valid question. One that Peter had asked himself a hundred times, frustrated with every possible reasoning he could come up with. It was only now that he understood why.

"He keeps his personal life very close to his chest." Peter pursed his lips at the irony of how Mr. Stark had sent him away nonetheless. "That's what you just said."

"Help me fix this, Peter."

His gums hurt from how strongly he was pressing his teeth together to stop his anger of flowing out of him. Anger at Rogers and Mr. Stark, too. For very different reasons.

"What if I don't want to help?" He turned to her, his temper slipping. "What if I don't want Rogers anywhere near him?"

"What if you were to tell me and it turns out I'd agree?"

She looked straight ahead, didn't make eye contact with Peter, but he still felt like there was a possibility that she might not be lying. He looked away from her and found a spot on the dark dashboard in front of him that serves as a great projection surface for the images flickering in front of his inner eye. He didn't trust her. He couldn't. But if there was a shot that she could keep Rogers away from Mr. Stark if she knew what he had done...

"He went there to help." Peter cleared his throat. "Mr. Stark. He went in secret. Behind Ross' back, too. That's what he told them. Rogers." He gritted his teeth as the image of the Winter Soldier, rifle at the ready directed right at Mr. Stark, flashed in his mind. "Rogers and Barnes."

"Just them? What about Zemo?"

Peter frowned. "There was a guy. In the bunker. Rogers was talking to him and then he put on a tape. A tape from 1991. A security camera that showed that..." Peter took a deep breath.

She nodded, eyes pointedly staring forward onto the road. "The Winter Soldier?"

"Yes," Peter whispered. "He... he killed them. Both of them." Howard Stark and his wife. Mr. Stark's parents, which would mean they were– Peter swallowed hard and physically shook the thought from his head. "Then they were fighting. In the bunker."

"Who was? Tony and Barnes? What did Steve do?"

Peter pulled in a sharp breath. It was the scene he had rewatched more often than any of the others. Rogers lying right to Mr. Stark's face, the sound of his mentor's voice so unfiltered with pure pain. "He... he tried to stop him. Rogers did. It..." Peter bit his lip. "Mr. Stark he wanted to go for Barnes and then... then Rogers grabbed him, told him not to and when... when Mr. Stark asked him if he had known he said... Rogers said he didn't. That he hadn't known."

"For fuck's sake, Steve..." Her lips were a narrow line, eyes still straight ahead.

"Mr. Stark didn't believe him and then Rogers he... he said that he hadn't known it was him. That he hadn't known it was Barnes." Peter studied her for a moment, wondering how honest she'd be. "He did though, didn't he? He knew all this time."

The corners of Romanoff's mouth twitched. "Yes. He knew."

Peter nodded. It wasn't a surprise. He had seen the lie in Rogers' face just like Mr. Stark had.

"What happened then?" She still didn't look at him, her face hard as a stone. "What happened when Steve told him he knew."

"They fought. Mr. Stark shoved Rogers away and then... then he went for Barnes. Rogers he... he tried to pull Mr. Stark away from Barnes but he..." Peter's voice so low, so shaky. "He was so angry. So—" One deep breath.

"So hurt."

Peter stared at the dashboard in front of him, unseeing. The images from that video he had watched again and again were playing in front of his eyes as clear as they had on his laptop screen the first time he had seen that altercation.

"They fought him, two against one until Mr. Stark had beaten Barnes down but then Rogers got him on his back." Peter swallowed hard, suppressing the queasy feeling in his stomach. "Slammed the shield into his head until the faceplate gave way and then brought it down on his chest. That's when the video ends."

"He destroyed the arc."

Peter huffed out a breath, his voice hardly louder than the grumble of the engine. "Among other things."

His building complex was coming into view now. They were almost there. If the Compound had been just a couple of miles closer, he might have been able to hold out. He might have never told her. Now he felt dirty. It hadn't been his secret to share and no matter how much he'd hope it would make her help Mr. Stark, there was no telling what he had just done.

"How did he get back? Do you know? If the arc didn't work he'd have been stranded. Did Ross—"

"No." His voice was low but she still fell silent. "Miss Potts and... and an agent."

"Agent Hill."

Peter shrugged. "Maria."

"Good." The Widow nodded to herself. "Tony doesn't need any more strike against himself with Ross."

She pulled into a smaller side street, away from the main road. It sent a shiver down his spine, alarm bells suddenly ringing, but she cast a glance at him, eyebrows raised, as Peter tensed in his seat.

"He knows you're with me. He'd not hesitate to kill me for ruffling your hair too roughly, you know that."

"I... I didn't think... I—"

The car came to a stop, engine still running.

"You don't want to be seen with me. We're going for a low profile, yeah?"

He grimaced. "Like anyone would recognize you."

"Those who would, would be dangerous."

Peter shrugged, then reluctantly nodded. He wasn't sure what to do now. Just get out of the car? Get away from her? He'd have done so in a heartbeat back at the Compound but now there was a finality to leaving that car, like he was leaving that world behind for good. Including Mr. Stark.

"It'll be alright, Peter. Things will work themselves out."

"You don't know that." The words had rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself.

"He's gonna wake up one morning and won't be able to stop himself from seeing you. I promise you that this isn't the end. Far from it."

Peter rubbed a hand across his face, feeling stupidly emotional. Then she reached out to him but instead of touching him, her hand opened, revealing a phone. He stared at hit, frozen.

She just sighed. "It's fine, it's not from me."

His eyes flickered up at her then back down to the phone. "No?"

"From Tony."

Peter huffed out a humorless laugh. "So how many trackers are on there?"

The Widow shrugged. "I'd assume a couple obvious ones for you to pull out right away. Another one well hidden so you can feel like you've seen through him and then the proper one buried somewhere deep inside."

He raised his eyebrows at her suspiciously. Why would she even tell him that?

"Like the kid who cracked Tony's server wouldn't figure that out on his own."

Heat was creeping up his neck, bleeding into his face. He rubbed the blush away, tried to at least, then took the phone from her hand.

"If you ever feel like you're in danger—"

"I'll Morse code from my bedroom room window and you'll see?" His voice low, mumbling but without much bite. "Jeeze. That's a comforting thought."

Her lips pulled into a genuine smirk at that, but Peter still felt foolish for joking about being watched like that.

"I was going to say there is a number in there for you to call, that'll get a message to me."

His hand shot up scratching the side of his face. "Why are you doing this?" He looked up at her, convinced she won't even answer that but her eyes met him straight on.

"I have red on my ledger. I need to wipe that out."

He turned away, not wanting to ask how literal she was being.

"Thank you for telling me, Peter. I swear, I will never use it against him."

Cold goosebumps crept up along his spine all the way to his neck. "If you do... If you hurt him—"

"You'll come for me. Yeah, I think I got that."

His eyes shot over at her tone, not at all patronizing. More like she was actually talking to an equal. Like he could actually hurt her when he decided to. Maybe he really could.

"I will. I swear, I will."

She bowed her head in a slow nod. All of a sudden, he couldn't stand the idea of being that close to her for even another moment. He pushed open the door of the car, one hand on the backpack filled with his things from the Compound and jumped out onto the sidewalk. He didn't look back, just pocketed the phone and headed home.

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_[author's note: __Welcome back, guys. This chapter got a little bit away with me. It was supposed to be a short transition, but then grew into this 7K beast. I thoroughly enjoyed Peter and Nat's little chat though and I hope you did too! _

_Thank you all for all the lovely comments on the last chapter and for sticking with me. The break was a little longer than I anticipated but moving during a pandemic sucks. I really can't recommend it ;) Updates will be a little quicker again from here on out. I think. We'll see ;) ]_


	51. The Sun Sets - Chapter 51

**Chapter 51 - The Sun Sets**

There were very few occasions when Tony would find himself in bed at dusk. He couldn't deny the exhaustion that was seated in his very bones though. Still he had argued, had fought against Pepper's insistence that he needed rest. He did. At some point, but first, well... that would have to wait now. At least till morning. His mind was drifting, jumping from one topic to the next like a cat distracted by a hundred light spots reflected off a glass crystal in the sun. Rest would help with that. And it also helped that Pepper was there, right next to him.

Her breathing was slow but deep. She was so close, lying right next to him, he could feel the rhythm of her breath more than he heard it. Her head snug against his chest, his right arm was curled around her, holding her next to him. Right away his hand had crept underneath the hem of her shirt with only his fingertips touching the warm soft skin on her waist, unmoving. Just relishing in the contact. She had her fingers entangled with his other hand, resting on his stomach. They had fallen back into this close familiarity just like that. Like they had never stopped.

"Rhodey's been trying to reach you." Her voice was low, treading carefully.

Tony turned his head towards her, but she wasn't even looking at him, just had her own head cushioned on his chest, her fingers lightly tracing the back of his hand. There wasn't really anything he could say to that. He tilted his face into her hair instead, eyes closed, trying to think of anything but that enormous shit show they were trying to get out of.

"Honey, we can't... We can't keep this from him. I can't lie to him and I know you don't want to either." She tried to control her breathing and with that the trembling of her voice. "I understand that you are trying to protect Addy, but Rhodey would never—"

"He can't know, Pep. It's impossible." Her body positively shook, she swallowed her frustration so hard. "Ross is just waiting for something he could use against us and Rhodey has the strictest rules of all of us and he needs to stick to them. If I tell him about Aiden, I'd have to tell him about Peter and if Ross sniffs out even just the tiniest hint of this, he'd court-martial Rhodey faster than I could supersonic fly myself to D.C. and it's just... No. No, he can't know."

She stayed quiet for a couple of breaths, fingers still running back and forth on his skin. "Just tell him he's alive then. That you... that you found him and that he's okay but you can't say anything else."

"Right." Tony huffed out a dry laugh, his voice muffled by her hair. "That's so much better and he's totally not gonna press both of us for however long it takes till one of us just tells him everything."

"Tony, please. He would never do anything to risk Addy. He wouldn't hesitate to do whatever it takes to keep him safe. There's a reason why you picked him to be his godfather, please, just—"

"I know that." Tony blew out a breath and turned his eyes back on the sky outside of their window, hoping to calm his mind. "And it would put everything on the line for him, Pep. Everything." His teeth grazed his bottom lip, still careful enough not to break skin. "He's at peace with how things were. No point in risking him like that."

She shuffled even closer to him as if the argument was threatening to tear them apart again. "That's not fair. He loves Addy. He knows something is up."

That was likely true. He'd had a few missed calls from Rhodey that he hadn't returned over the last couple of days and it hadn't just been that with all the craziness going down, that Tony simply hadn't had the time to return the call. He just didn't know what to tell Rhodey about what was happening. Partially, it had been a matter of Tony being in the middle of figuring out what was going on himself. The risk the truth posted for Rhodey because of his career and worst-case his freedom wasn't lost on Tony though.

"Let's give it a couple of days, alright?" He pushed his face back into Pepper's hair, eyes closed as he relished in how he finally got to hold her again like this, letting that feeling drown out the screaming intensity of all the other things that made his mind buzz. "I'll think of something to tell him about... about Addy."

He pressed a long kiss onto her hair, then relaxed his head back onto the pillow.

Pepper drew in a shaky breath. "Tell me about him."

His eyes were fixed on the sky, trying to ignore the city lights blazing from down below. The clouds were darkening as the sun set on the western sky. He never did look at the sky anymore, hadn't really since wormholes and aliens had become part of his reality.

"Tony..."

He shook his head. He didn't want to play this game.

"He's alive. After all this time, are you—" She stopped herself and sighed.

Her hand came up to lie flat on his chest and he couldn't help but flinch as pain pulsed through his rip cage.

Pepper shot up into a sitting position, startled by his grunt of pain. "What—what was that?" Her eyes were on his face, frowning.

"I... I guess those meds really are out of my system now."

"Does it... oh god, does your chest still hurt? Is it still not—"

"No, Pep, it's..." Tony closed his eyes and sighed, ready to surrender to the talking-to this would get him. She'd find out eventually. "It's just a bad bruise from... from the vest."

Her eyes were wide and she pestered him until he took his shirt off at last. He had expected a scolding but she was quiet, one hand tracing the edge of the bruise.

"Did Helen see this?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes."

"And why..." Pepper blew out a long breath, calming herself. "Why didn't she do anything about it?"

"It just a bruise, Pep. It'll fade. Nothing the cradle can do about it anyway."

"The vest. Is this... Is this from another bullet?"

"Pep..."

"Answer me," she bit out at him.

"Yes." His voice was low and cracking and not at all as confident as he had wanted it to be.

Her next couple of breaths were just as uneven, as was her voice. "They hit you in the chest. When?"

"I..." He shook his head. A couple of nights ago or however long it had been since Natasha had discovered the wound underneath his protective gear, he had gone through the hazy memories from that day. From that basement. But he just couldn't be sure. "Maybe... maybe in the basement when—" He cut himself off. He couldn't tell her how he had walked straight at them while one of them had held a gun pointed at the boy's head. He would have done so, vest or no vest, Peter or Aiden. It wouldn't have mattered. He didn't regret a single step but Pepper wouldn't feel quite as generous about Tony risking himself like that. She never did.

"You don't remember?" Her voice was low, making the strain on it stand out distinctly.

"I'm fine, Pep," he said, as much soothing smoothness in his words as he could manage. "It's just a bruise."

Her gaze found his and it was in her eyes how much this upset her. She pressed his shirt back into his hands.

Tony tilted his head to the side, making a point to hold the eye contact. "I was wearing a vest. The kid wasn't."

Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. "Like you thought about that in the moment. Like you'd have done something differently if it hadn't been for the vest." She twitched goosebumps spreading down her arms, but her tone cut him even deeper. "We said no more bullshit. You promised, no more—"

"You're right. I'm sorry." He still didn't look away from her.

"Did you know that it was Aiden? Did you already know then? Or just... just suspect it?"

Tony swallowed hard. "No. No, I didn't."

"You did this for Peter then. For your intern."

Tony did look away at that. He took his time to work the shirt back over his head, giving himself some distance from Pepper's unwavering eyes on him. "He's more than just an intern, Pep. I... I knew what he did out there. The danger he exposed himself to. I promised I'd keep him safe. I _promised_ that he'd be safe with me and then... and I couldn't." He flinched as he bit lip too hard, tasting blood. "Or rather, I didn't."

Her gaze was not on his face anymore. She was staring at the spot on his chest where underneath his shirt that bullet bruise was an angry burning red mark.

"I don't like this," she whispered.

"I know you don't." He reached for her hand then, squeezed it tightly. There was nothing to like about that situation they were in. Nothing to like about the decisions he had had to make. "I'm sorry, Pep."

"You really didn't..." She still didn't look at him, wheels in her head turning. "You didn't suspect anything?"

"No." He didn't even have to break his no-bullshit promise for that one. "No, I didn't."

It wasn't that the setup he'd had with the boy hadn't been odd. Especially for Tony's usual style. Maybe he should have been more suspicious. There had been something about the kid he had never been able to put his finger on. Just the way they had clicked. That ridiculous calm that came over him when the boy was around. Still, he didn't believe in all that mumbo-jumbo, in some underlying connection his subconscious could have picked up on. All that anti-scientific snake oil that people told themselves so they would feel better about the random cruelty the universe sometimes spat at them. All that had nothing to do with it. He just liked the kid. He cared about him, he could admit that to himself now. Not because any DNA test said he should. Because he had gotten to know him. Just because the kid was a great kid. Then Pepper pulled him out of his thoughts.

"His... his face, his mannerism, they are so—"

"I didn't, Pep. He's 13!" A painful jolt went through him at the thought of the boy's true age. Thought of everything he hadn't paid nearly enough attention to. Of what he had let a 13-year-old get away with. "He was only 2 then and I never... I never thought about it like this. I... I never thought he'd just show up like that it... I'm sorry, I know I should have—"

Pepper put a hand on his arm, making him look at her. "I was going to say, they are so _you_. So similar." Her mouth moved like she was actively biting her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else.

He studied her closely, mostly in the hopes of deciphering the things she'd try to hold back. "It's not that I didn't think that there was a chance... some hope that he was still out there. I... I even had... I had FRIDAY do another analysis of all the data we had gathered on Aiden and similar cases over the years. Fresh eyes. But... but not because I thought it was him just..." He shook his head.

"It's so unlikely, honey. So... such a coincidence. It's completely normal that you didn't even think about the possibility of this happening. Might even be a self-protection kind of thing. Something that you didn't want to think about and just pushed away."

He bit his lip hard, careful enough not to hit the same tender spot from before. He had no interest in anyone taking apart his mental state, not even Pepper. "I just... can we... can we just not analyze this right now? I..." He shuffled around in the bed until he came to lay back down again.

"I'm sorry..." Her voice was just a low whisper.

Pepper still sat upright next to him but he waved off her apology, only reached for her hand and pulled her back down. She obliged, settled her head back on the side of his chest, careful to stay away from his injury. There were a couple of minutes of silence between them though he could positively hear Pepper thinking.

When she spoke up again her voice was smooth almost innocent considering what she was asking. "Just... just tell me about Peter then."

Tony pressed his eyes shut. It was so obvious what she was trying to do but this wasn't all that much better. Even if he disregarded all the mess about who Peter had actually turned out to be, their relationship had been tumultuous. He had asked things of the boy he should have never asked. Left him to do his patrolling and crime-fighting to an extend that had been so completely irresponsible.

"Please?" she whispered and his heart ached with the realization of how he could just never resist whatever Pepper asked of him. Even if it tore him up inside. And all this? He'd had months with the kid. Months worth of them geeking out in the lab, getting to know each other. Months of memories. Granted, some of those memories made his palms sweat and his heart race uncomfortably fast, but still, nobody could take that away from him no matter what. He'd had months with the kid when Pepper had only had minutes and moments. That was it.

The selfish part of him wanted to keep everything that had happened close to his heart, didn't even really want to think about any of this let alone talk about it, but his tight-lipped stance wasn't fair to Pepper. He was taking the kid away from her just as much as he was doing this to himself. Tony took a deep breath, moving his right hand up from her waist to run through her hair instead. She curled into him, one hand shielding her face from him.

She sighed, her voice just a whisper. "I'm sorry I just—"

"He's smart. Really smart. And..." Tony swallowed hard. How could he even begin to explain _Peter_? "And bubbly and curious. He... he's kind and open. Too open sometimes, naively positive despite everything he'd had to live through." The kid had a soul so pure and righteous, it was difficult to accept it as it was without looking for signs of disingenuous motives. "After... after Siberia..." He swallowed deep as Pepper was tensing next to him, but she kept quiet, just let him talk. "He was at the Compound every day, checking... checking in on me." Pepper's hand rose up and quickly found his. He could feel her tears slowly seeping through his shirt as she squeezed his hand hard. "The day I... I woke up, when I sent you to get that picture frame it was because he had been in the room. Been hiding on top of one of the cupboards."

Pepper pushed herself up just enough that she could look into his eyes, tears staining her face. "He was in the room?"

Tony grimaced at her. "Yeah. Up on the ceiling, hiding."

"How... how did he get into the Compound? Into the med wing?"

"I gave him clearance for the labs at the Tower and the Compound. He... I just wanted to make sure he had a place to go if something ever went wrong while he was out there." Out there Spider-Man-ing. Crime-fighting. Tony swallowed hard. The boy had made use of that offer more than once too.

He pulled her back down onto the bed, held her close beside him, and then talked about lab days, the tinkering, how he had made Peter repair Dum-E that first night at the Compound. Pepper just held onto him and listened. He told her about the night they had met, after the boy had come to Pepper's aid. For just a moment he had contemplated not to tell her about that night at the Tower when the boy had been knifed. His stomach turned at the thought that he hadn't sown up a stab wound on a random enhanced teenager. He had been inflicting all that agony on his own son, no anesthesia, no trained medical supervision.

Tony's skin was wet with cold sweat as the memories rushed through him of how the boy had cried and whimpered from the pain on the table just next door to where they were lying now.

"Honey?" Her hand ran through his hair, concern clearly written in her face.

"I... I was so careful about it." He felt out of breath, exhausted even lying down. "Pep, I was so careful, I swear."

Her hand squeezed his, then ran up his arms all the way to his shoulder and settled there. "Of course you were, honey." She nodded fiercely and even her wet eyes couldn't hide the concern written so clearly in her face.

"I wanted to call an ambulance. I did. It was the first thing I did, but he begged me not to. He begged me not to call anyone. Actually tried to run, bleeding out in the process, it..." The grip of her hand tightened on his. "He... he was just so scared and I... I didn't know what would happen to him. A minor, clearly enhanced. I didn't know what they would do."

He hadn't been sure. There was no way he could have been sure what would have happened to the boy. Odds had been that all the kid's fear would have come true. That they would have taken him away from his home, would have likely kept him confined somewhere. But there was also another scenario. A hard and messy alternate timeline that could have had them reunited so much sooner. A scenario that would have taken this choice that Tony had to make for his son away from him and forced the boy's secret into the open. Would have left Tony with no other choice than to react and fight for him and no matter how messy it had been, at least they would have been together.

"You did what you thought was best, honey. I know that you would never do anything like that lightly." Her fingers were entangled with his, closely and firm, the pressure grounding.

"Maybe they would have tested his blood right away. What if they had and... we could have known months ago. Months." He blew out a shaky breath, but couldn't find the strength to look directly at her. "What if I had done that? That first night? It's not like his blood hadn't been all over the apartment, I... I could have known then. If I'd just—"

"Shh, don't do this. You don't get to blame yourself for this. You couldn't have known. There's no secret psychic connection. We're still in the real world and not some fantasy fairy tale where your son walked into the room and trumpets start to play and there's some heavenly sign."

Tony closed his eyes, unwilling and a little bit incapable of answering. He was looking for the right words, but they just wouldn't come. His head was swimming with emotion and exhaustion

"Just... just close your eyes." Pepper's voice was soft, soothing. "Just rest."

He gave his head a subtle shake just before he drifted off. "I can't I... there are still things to do. The research with... with that agency. I... I need to make sure he's safe. And... and I need to call the realtor. I need the Tower to be gone. As long as I have it I'll just use it as an excuse and I can't... I can't..." He sighed. His eyes were stinging.

"Honey, you're exhausted. When's the last time you actually slept?"

His head felt heavy as he gave it a couple of shakes. "Just... just last night I'm fine, I—"

"Please, not even I slept last night." The tips of her fingers traced up and down the length of his arms, the steady rhythm slowly calming the agitation he felt deep in his bones. "You didn't even nap, darling. Not like that would have counted as sleep with you."

"I... Listen, it's not—"

"FRIDAY?"

_**"Tuesday night before he left for the Compound."**_

He closed his eyes in resignation. "Snitch," he mumbled under his breath.

But the lecture he had expected to come his way never did come. Instead, Pepper just ran a hand through his hair. "Do you want me to get you something? Something to slow your mind?"

"Like a scotch?"

He'd expected more of a scolding tone on her, but the words sounded almost like her lips were pulled into a bit of a smile. "I was thinking more like an Ambien."

His eyes still closed, the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. "I'm good, darling. Just..." He turned and pressed his face into her side. "I'm good with you here."

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#

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The moment Peter had opened the door to his home, he had realized that he was alone in the apartment. He had expected May to be waiting, to throw her arms around him and hug him close. This weekend had been the longest he had been away from home. Well, it wasn't like he had planned for it.

There was a note she had left for him on the dining table.

_Peter,_

_I'm sorry I couldn't wait, but I had to go into work. I will be back for breakfast. Check in with me when you get home. I miss you._

_Love,  
May_

Heavy feet dragged him into his room and he fell onto his bed face first, his frustrated groan only muffled by his pillow. He managed to lie still for less than two minutes before he turned to the side, his eyes on the tiny speck of sky, barely visible atop the narrow alleyway between his apartment building and the next. The clouds were darkening and night was falling over the city. With his aunt not at home this would be the time he'd usually go on patrol.

The hair on his neck stood at the thought. Even if he still had his suit, he wasn't sure he'd have the guts to go out there and patrol right now. Not after everything that had happened that weekend. His fingers fumbled with the phone that lay heavy in his pocket. A phone from Mr. Stark. Unless the Widow had been lying. Which was entirely possible.

If Mr. Stark had really given it to her for Peter to use, there was no doubt in his mind that there was a multitude of trackers buried inside it. But why go to that much trouble? What would he even do with that? Would he actually track where Peter was going? Check if he stayed out past his curfew? It seemed like he had never even taken advantage of that feature on the Spider-suit, so what would happen now?

He rolled himself out of bed and lightly tossed the phone onto his desk. After a moment's hesitation he pulled out a desk drawer and looked through it until he came away with his old smartphone. He hadn't used it in a while and the battery was completely flat. It took a couple of minutes until it was ready to go, a quick check confirmed that his number was still registered with that phone. Those couple of minutes were long enough for him to come up with a couple of sentences for May about how he was home and was looking forward to breakfast. Almost immediately his phone rang, May was calling. His finger hovered back and forth between the accept and deny call buttons.

She knew that he had just sent that message though. Not answering would only make her suspicious, if she wasn't already after that long weekend. It was a short call, May asking how he was, if she should come home, how he was, again. Told him that she could come home right away, but he declined.

"Are you sure that you're alright to stay home alone, sweetheart? I really can just—"

"No. I... I'm really tired anyway. There was so much... so much to keep up with this weekend and I... I think I'll just lie down." He grimaced to his empty bedroom, hoping an early night wouldn't ring any alarm bells with her.

"Okay, that's a good idea. Just rest a bit and I'll be there when you get up."

He nodded even though she couldn't see him. "Yeah, okay." Maybe it was better that she couldn't see him because then she might pick up on how he had every intention but to go to bed.

"I love you, sweetheart. Have a good night."

"I... I love you too."

It had been less than 5 minutes since Peter had hung up on his aunt. On May. He had been quick to pull out a pair of dark jeans and a black hoodie. His old mobile tucked into the pocket of his pants, the new Stark Phone disregarded on his desk, he was balancing on the edge of the window sill. A quick turn brought his hands against the building's brick wall. His foot slid the window shut and he pulled himself to the top of the building, carefully, quietly. He wasn't quite sure if his body was already back to full capacity, but it felt good to be outside, the summer wind blowing strongly between the building blocks.

He turned west when he reached the rooftop and took in the Manhattan skyline that lay spread out before him, Stark Tower lit up bright like a beacon among the lights of the city.

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_[author's note: Thanks for reading and commenting, everyone! I always love to hear your theories. I'm still polishing up a few things before the next chapter, but the wait shouldn't be too long ;) _

_Have an awesome weekend!]_


	52. Late Night Talk - Chapter 52

**Chapter 52 - Late Night Talk**

What was he even doing here? It was stupid. And creepy. And also stupid. And there'd be hell to pay if May figured out that he was gone. It was unlikely that Mr. Stark would be thrilled that he had gone out in the dark climbing buildings either. And all that without a suit. He just had to risk it though. Had to try. Mr. Stark needed to stay. Peter needed him to stay. He couldn't just let him leave, not without putting up at least some resistance. But how was he going to do that? What could he even say? Peter had no idea. He had to trust that the magic combination of words would just come to him, when he would see the man. He had climbed all the way up to the floor of the penthouse. The lights in the living room were dimmed almost all the way down and he couldn't see anyone. The lights on the balcony itself were turned off all the way. Maybe... what if he was too late?

"Hey, FRIDAY... is... erm... Is Mr. Stark around?"

_**"Hello, Peter. Boss is on the premises but I have been given orders that he is not to be disturbed until tomorrow morning."**_

"Oh..." Mr. Stark had left with Miss Potts. With his... girlfriend? And here Peter was sneaking around on their balcony... "Oh god, yeah... just... just don't... Don't tell him I'm here."

He turned his back and walked out onto the landing platform. This had been a ridiculous idea. He shouldn't have even come here. Mr. Stark had already made his choice and he'd been very clear about it. How was _he_ ever even convince the man to change his mind?

"FRIDAY, is it... is it okay if I just sit out here? Not for long, I... I don't want to mess with your security protocols or anything, I... I'll leave in a bit, I just... can I just sit here, for a couple of minutes?"

He waited for her to answer but she stayed quiet. Maybe her sensors didn't work all the way out on the platfo—

_**"You are welcome to stay, Peter."**_

"Thanks, FRI." Alright then. He turned back around and let his eyes wander over Manhattan. He took off his makeshift mask as he sat down. Well, mask... a beanie covering his head and a bandana wrapped around his face. Just a quick fix since he'd never gotten his suit back. He wouldn't now. Not with Mr. Stark leaving. That too, he had made perfectly clear.

The platform was situated on the same side of the building as Mr. Stark's personal lab. Just one floor below he had sat, worked and chatted with the man for months, had looked out at the exact same panorama. He pulled up his legs and rested his chin on his knees. Manhattan's lights were bright and many people would kill to get the chance to experience the view in front of Peter, but he had no mind for it. It was only an out-of-focus collection of lights to him while his mind pulled up other images like the memories of all these months that he had just come and gone to the Tower's lab, the late-night workshop hours. Even more than that his mind drifted to these videos he had been watching on Mr. Stark's server. His weird obsession with these moments that had been so personal. All this time he had thought it was his own loss that had drawn his sick mind to watch more and more of them. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe there had been something in his subconscious that had made him feel like he belonged when he had watched all that. Some deeply rooted remnant imprint on his soul, that had remained unimpressed that he went by a different name now. That didn't care who he thought his parents were, only cared about who he really was, his real parents, his... his real name.

None of it made any sense to him. How could any of this be real? Did his parents... his actual par— Richard and Mary. Had they known about this?

His hands shot up and covered his face. What was he gonna do? He couldn't even think straight. He had none of the answers to any of these questions. The biggest one being, that if all of this was true... If he really was who Mr. Stark believed him to be... If he really was Mr. Stark's... Mr. Stark's son. If Mr. Stark really was his... his real dad... why didn't he want him? Why wasn't he fighting for him? Mr. Stark was Iron Man. He could take on anyone he wanted. They'd... they'd become a team, hadn't they? Had all of that just been in his head? Or did none of that matter in contrast to the mistakes Peter had made? Maybe Mr. Stark would simply never forgive him for going behind his back. For lying to him. Did he even want to know the answer to that?

Peter's senses flared up just enough for him to notice. The glass door that led out of the penthouse was pushed open. He held his breath and turned slowly. The bright lights over Manhattan had made him temporarily blind to what lay in the darkness of the balcony. He could only make out a silhouette standing in the doorway, his eyes overstimulated by the bright city lights. It was very dark out there on the platform, maybe if he stayed quiet he'd go unnoticed. Plus, he didn't want to scare her.

"FRIDAY, is he still here?"

He froze as FRIDAY's voice echoed across the balcony.

_**"He's out on the platform, Ma'am."**_

She turned in his direction right away. His hand grabbed the beanie and bandana lying next to him by reflex. His eyes adapting to the dark silhouette, as she crossed her arms, a light cardigan wrapped around her, protecting her from the high winds on the balcony. He quickly pulled the beanie over his head when he heard her call out to him.

"Peter?"

He stopped in mid-motion. After a moment's hesitation he scrambled to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Miss Potts. I didn't... I didn't want to disturb you." His eyes went past her, searching for more movement in the room behind her, but he couldn't sense anything. Nobody other than Miss Potts.

"He's asleep."

"Oh... I... okay." That was new.

"Could you... could you come over here for a moment?"

His legs started to move on their own before he had even made a conscious decision on whether to go. Her eyes were wide watching him on the high platform, her hands clinging tightly to the fabric of her cardigan. Then, one of her hands shot out when he took two steps at a time descending from the platform onto the balcony.

"Careful..." She relaxed a little when Peter stepped further away from the balustrade and walked towards the lounge set on the deck she ushered him to.

"I'm sorry, Miss Potts, I... I asked FRIDAY if... if it was alright to stay. I was gonna—"

"Please... please, don't call me that. Just... just call me Pepper."

He couldn't look at her, looked at his feet instead, and grimaced. Yeah, that was not gonna happen. He tried for a bit of a smile and a nod in her general direction without looking up but it came out even more awkward than he thought it would. Eyes everywhere but on her, he sat down on one of the rattan couches. "I... I know I shouldn't have come. He told me not to come, but I just—"

"It's okay." Her voice was soft as she sat down in the chair next to him. "I'm glad to see you."

She reached for his hand and he let her take it, let her squeeze it tightly. Peter stole a glance at her and found her smile widening, eyes open and welcoming.

"It's so good to see you, you have no idea..."

Her second hand came to join the other, embracing Peter's right completely. His eyes burned at the gesture and at the same time he couldn't help but smile. The genuine warmth she was radiating almost physically engulfed him. One look at the blush that surely crept up into his cheeks and she got up from her own chair, then sat down right next to him on the lounge couch instead. One of her hands grasped his upper arm as to steady him.

"He told you then." His free hand pulled the beanie off his head. "About... about Spider-Man." She only nodded in confirmation, so he continued, indicating the beanie. "I don't usually dress like a burglar, but Mr. Stark he... he took my suit."

The corners of her mouth twitched. "So I've heard."

Peter shrugged, his head bowed low. "I know he's still mad. I... I didn't listen to him, about the Rouges. And then I— I know he's mad, I just..." He sighed deeply and looked back up at her. Her featured had turned a bit sadder, emanating sympathy.

"It must be so hard for you. All this... it's not easy for him either. He thinks this is the right thing to do. For you."

Peter bit his lip, determined to keep his emotions in check. "Maybe... maybe if you talked to him..." He rapidly blinked the moisture from his eyes before he dared to look up at her. She gave his hand another squeeze, but didn't interrupt him. "He listens to you. You're the only one he ever listens to. Please—"

"I did, honey. I tried." Her eyebrows were drawn together, her face lined with what could almost be described as sorrow. "I told him to stay, but he thinks—" She stopped herself. "He is trying to protect you."

Peter's stomach was tingling with nerves. He couldn't help but jump up out of his seat. "I have superpowers! I can protect myself, you know! I can... I can stop a car if I want to. With only my hands. I don't even need the suit for it."

She looked up at him, head tilted, eyebrows raised, like she was waiting for him to get a punchline he seemed to have missed.

"I can! I can look after myself!"

"Honey, Tony just had to break you out of a bunker's basement, after some weirdos kidnapped you, just because they picked you out as his favorite intern."

His face fell and he felt his body deflate. "That's... that's different. I mean, I didn't think... I didn't know... I can be more careful. I can!"

Her eyes wouldn't leave his face. "We're leaving in the morning. He's going to sell the Tower."

"Wh—What?" Peter's eyes widened. "He can't sell it!"

"Listen... Peter... " She shook her head slowly, indicating the spot on her left he had vacated before. "Can you just come and sit down for a moment? Please."

He swallowed hard but complied with her request and sat back down next to her on the lounge set. She made to reach for his hand again, but stopped herself in mid-motion.

"I'm sorry, this must be so weird for you."

Almost to his surprise, she pulled her hand back and rubbed it across her face instead, then folded both of them neatly in her lap. His first instinct was to look down to his own lap or his feet, anywhere really that wasn't her, but he forced himself to look back over. It would have been impossible to miss the sorrow and frustration she was fighting as well.

He exhaled deeply, gnawing on the inside of his lip. "He... he said I should just forget about what happened. Forget what I know, but... but I can't? How would I ever—" He stopped himself, lower lip caught between his lips as he tried to think of what to say. "I don't... I don't even understand how this could have happened. Everyone... everyone is lying and keeping their secrets and... and I just... I never thought he would." His voice was low, more like a whispered thought than a conscious part of the conversation. "I never thought he'd lie to me like that."

She blew out a deep breath, but at least she didn't try to deny it, didn't try to make it seem like he was wrong, because he wasn't stupid. He had known from the moment Mr. Stark had barred him from asking FRIDAY about basically anything, that he was hiding something. Who knew how long he had before then. How much of those last months had really been just a coincidence? Had just been Mr. Stark making sure that he was okay? How much of it had been the man scouting out his life instead?

"It's not fair. I deserved to know. Nobody... It's like I don't even know anything... anything about myself."

She reached for him again and turned towards him as much as the lounge would allow, the pressure of her hand tight. "What do you want to know?"

"I... I don't—" He tried to blink away the genuine shock her question gave him. Was this a sincere offer?

"I can't promise that I can help you with everything you want to know, but if I can, I will tell you." The look on her face was determined, like she actually meant it. "You just need to ask me."

A shiver ran down his spine. He did have so many question. So many things that confused him. The one that felt like the most pressing was also the one he'd rather ask anyone but her. Pepper Potts sitting next to him in the dark on the balcony of Stark Tower, holding his hand, offering up all the answers she could give him. It seemed too good to be true. When she had left with Mr. Stark it had left him numb and now Ms. Potts... Pepper... Pepper Potts was offering...

"You and... and Mr. Stark..." Peter closed his eyes for a brief second, fighting the heat that was rising up into his face from the sheer awkwardness of the question. "You... you're like... back together." He looked up when he felt her hold on his hand loosen a bit. She frowned but tightened her grip again.

"Yes."

He nodded, swallowing hard. "Back when... I mean... Were you... you and Mr. Stark, when... when I was..." He shook his head. This was so ridiculous. "Never mind, I..." His face was hot. What was he even thinking?

"It's..." She drew in a slow breath. "It's fine. Go on. You can ask me."

"When... when I was born, were you already, you know..."

She pulled his hand towards herself, forcing him to face her and he found her eyes searching his face.

"I was his PA. I'm not..." She bit her lip, casting her eyes down for a blink before she look straight at him again, her brow furrowed. "I'm not your mother, if that's what you're trying to ask."

He nodded quickly, then shook his head and turned his gaze back to the floor. "Okay, I just— I'm sorry. I wasn't... I wasn't sure. I probably shouldn't have— I'm sorry—"

Her other hand caught his cheek and turned his face back up.

"Please, don't apologize."

Her hand was warm on his face and there was a dull sadness in the pit of his stomach. Disappointment. He didn't even know how to place that, if it flamed up because it wasn't her or because he'd been foolish enough to voice that particular hypothesis he had harbored for the last few hours to her of all people in the first place. A weird secret fantasy that had been nagging in the back of his mind ever since he had realized that the familiar, warm energy he had felt when she had hugged him in the med wing might not have been all that accidental.

"But, when you were around then, that means that you... you know who...?"

Her hand dropped from his face. Her eyes still studied him. She gave a short nod. "I know."

Peter's eyes widened again. "You... you know who my mother is?" It was clear from her hesitation that she already regretted that she had offered him answers. He bit the inside of his lip. "It's fine, you don't have to tell me. I..." He shook his head and turned away from her.

"Honey, look at me."

He met her eyes again, nerves and unease made his hands tremble, but she held firmly onto him.

"I do... I do know. The thing is..." He could see it in her eyes before she said it. There was a certain way people looked at you, a sense of pity and sadness. "She died, honey. I'm sorry."

"Oh." Peter's lungs deflated. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Her name was Aileen Kelly. She was a photo journalist."

His gaze had wandered down to his hand that Pepper Potts still held tightly, squeezing it every now and again. It was the only thing he really seemed to feel at that moment, the rest of his body just felt numb.

"What... what happened?"

"She..." Miss Potts furrowed her brow, hesitating. "I'm not sure if I should be the one telling you this. I know, I said I'd answer whatever I could but this..." She sighed, had turned her eyes away from him and now looked out into the Manhattan sky.

"It's fine. I mean, it doesn't matter. It's not like... like I knew her. I mean, I can't remember anything. I can hardly remember my real parents— I mean, my... my other parents— I'm sorry, it's..." He rubbed his free hand over his face in frustration. He didn't even know, who his _real_ parents were anymore. He didn't even know how he could have ever been placed with his mom and dad. Everything was such a mess. One of her hands came to lie on his upper arm, squeezing it to give comfort.

Aileen Kelly. He had never heard that name before. It had never come up, not that first time when he had looked into the story around Mr. Stark's son, not in any of those videos on Mr. Stark's server either.

"Honey, it..." She blew out a deep breath, then waited till Peter looked back up at her. "She had a stroke, shortly after you were born."

"A stroke?"

Miss Potts nodded, eyes still on him. "He... Tony, he brought you home after that. He remodeled the whole house, implemented JARVIS to monitor every single angle of every single corner of that building. He put up baby monitors everywhere, that he didn't even use for months because he always had you close by, in the workshop, in the office. He had you napping next to him during board meetings for the first few months. He was so scared to mess up, so determined to be there whenever you'd need him."

Her gaze had wandered away from him. For a moment, she was lost in her own memories, eyes slightly glazed over, lingering in the air somewhere next to him. Her face softened and then her eyes found his.

"You were the cutest little thing. The first thing you said was 'dog', so of course Tony wanted to go buy a dog until he realized that you were pointing at his bots whenever you said it. So instead, he built a little bot that could get up the stairs from the workshop and that would follow you around the house. The first time you walked was just before Christmas. I..." she bit her lip, unable to suppress a smile. "I was watching you in my office because Tony had to sit in on some last-minute meetings before the holidays. You were holding onto my desk and then just let go and walked a couple of steps. I never told him." She chuckled, letting go with one hand of his and rubbed at her eyes. "He would have been so upset to miss it. He took you home that night and by morning he'd send me more than 10 videos of you walking in front of the Christmas tree."

While she kept talking, Peter found himself return the tight hold of her hand. All these stories seemed like someone else's life, surely not his. It was the life he had seen on his laptop screen, never realizing what he was watching and how personal it really was. Personal not just to Mr. Stark, but to him. Maybe one day he would get another shot at that, another opportunity to watch all that and maybe one day it would feel like those memories did belong to him.

He didn't know how long he was lost in his thoughts but at some point, he realized that Miss Potts had stopped talking. She was studying him, her face somber.

"I wasn't around for the last few months as much as I should have been." She did say it like it was an honest regret. "I don't know how this whole internship..." Her nose crinkled with a flash of discomfort. "...crime-fighting modus operandi unfolded, but I know Tony. I _know_ him and I promise you if he would have had as much as a mere inkling of the... the real connection here, there is no way he could have remained passive. He would have made a spectacle of things because that's him." She looked back to the dimly lit rooms of the penthouse for a moment. "Few people care the way Tony does. But you already know that, right?"

Peter turned his face away from her, eyes fixed on the bright lights of the skyline, blaming those for how his vision started to blur. His throat was too tight to speak.

"When you were... were injured." She trod carefully with this, he could tell just by how meticulously considered her choice of words was. "Or lost. You've already seen him like that, didn't you? At least from what he told me."

"He... he told you? About me?" Peter was struggling to keep the memories from bubbling up. Mr. Stark's arms firmly wrapped around him, grounding him, his heartbeat strong and steady. Down in the lab when Peter had had that panic attack. In the guestroom after what had happened in Lagos, that room that had kinda, sorta become Peter's room. Even right up there on the balcony and then in the living room, just behind where they were sitting now, after Peter had been stabbed. Had thought he might die.

"Yeah... " She nodded, the expression on her face was difficult to place. A bit of sorrow shining through. "Yeah, he did tell me some things. About you. About... about what happened in the last few months."

Months. It really had been that long, almost half a year since that first night he had met Mr. Stark.

"We've met before, haven't we." Her voice was low now, guarded. "Earlier this year."

Goosebumps sprung off on Peter's arms as the images from the Compound came back to him. Mr. Stark in that hospital bed, unresponsive for days as Peter had hidden on the ceiling of his room.

"I... Yeah, that. I'm sorry for hiding, but I didn't know how... nobody knew and Mr. Stark he... he was the only one and I just... I just wanted to be careful." Only Mr. Stark had known then. Of course now, well... Now quite a few people knew.

She frowned. "No, I..." Then shook her head. "In February, when I was at that school in Queen where—" She stopped, eyes a little unfocused. "God, that... that's your school, isn't it? I didn't even—" She shook her head again. "Were you... Were you in that room when I was speaking? When I talked about the September Foundation?"

"Right. Yeah... yeah, I was there."

"And then..." The wind was tugging at the fabric of her cardigan and she slung her arms around herself, holding it close even though the summer air was warm. "Then afterwards. After the presentation..."

"In the alley." He hadn't even recognized her then, too lost in getting the job done that had neatly unfolded right in front of him. "These two guys attacked you in the alley behind the school."

"And you stopped them."

He twitched in a bit of a mix of a shrug and a nod. "They wouldn't have... I mean, I don't think they'd have hurt you, you know. Maybe... maybe stolen from you. But like... you weren't in danger-danger. I mean... you know? It was fine. It was nothing."

She leaned over to him, a hand on his knee effectively stopping his rambling. "It wasn't nothing to me, honey. Thank you."

It was the weirdest moment of their conversation yet, her thanking him. Pepper Potts. Surreal. But then, surreal was what his life had turned into over the last few months and whenever Peter thought it couldn't get any crazier it was like the universe saw it as a challenge to prove him wrong. That day that Pepper Potts had turned out to be the recipient of his neighborhood efforts, had kicked the surrealness into another gear though for sure.

"Mr. Stark, he... he came to look for me that night. Wanted to make sure that I wasn't a threat. A threat to you, mostly, I think." She grimaced with unease, not the nostalgic affection he would have expected, so he quickly clarified. "It... it wasn't like... bad or anything. It was... he even offered me a favor later on."

"A favor?" The suspicion in her voice was equal part unsettling and amusing to him, given Mr. Stark's track record of spontaneous charity she'd be aware of that he had only discovered later on.

"He said that... that he was in my debt because... because I had helped." Peter bit his lip. That wasn't quite what he had said, but his real words sounded cheesy in Peter's head even though they had rung completely truthful when Mr. Stark had delivered them so nonchalantly. "Because I... because I protected what was most precious to him."

His eyes didn't leave her face, almost greedy for her reaction, but he had a hard time reading her.

"That's what he said?"

Peter nodded, her hand that still rested on his knee felt a little heavier now, but she left it at that. Didn't give him the chance of a glimpse into her relationship to Mr. Stark.

"Is that why you went to the Tower, to Tony, when... when you were hurt?"

Partially, but essentially he had. It was their deal that had brought him back to Stark Tower in his moment of need. Not just that, of course. The proximity was an important part as well. Mr. Stark's kindness. But he nodded along to her question anyway, no desire to go back into the details of what had happened in that fateful night.

"It's weird, right?" Peter huffed out a shallow laugh. "If they hadn't attacked you, who knows... who knows how things would have turned out. If you hadn't been in town for that presentation... it's just so random."

She blinked a couple of times, eyes not leaving his face. "I wasn't in town for that I—"

Her mouth slammed shut and her expression was suddenly a lot more guarded. It made Peter's heart jump. More secrets then, more lies. Of course. He was sick of this shit. All of them were determined to keep him in the dark about what was going on in his own damn life. None of them even bothered to pretend anymore. He was about to get up and put some distance between them when her knitted eyebrows smoothed out again, her eyes soft.

"I... I was in town because of you. Because... well, the date. That's, erm..." She swallowed hard. "February 25th. Your... your birthday. Well, because of you, but for Tony. He... he doesn't do so well on that day. Not on his own."

Peter gave his head a forceful shake. That was wrong. "But... no. No, my birthday is in August not—" His jaw dropped as realization washed over him. "I... oh... oh my god. I... "

Her hands found both of his, squeezing them tightly. "Darling, I'm sorry, I didn't... I'm sorry I should have known that you hadn't... hadn't realized."

"February 25th. That... that means—" It felt like someone was sitting on his chest. He couldn't breathe. His birthday... his real birthday wasn't Peter Parker's birthday at all. Of course it wasn't. He just hadn't thought that far ahead. Idiot. Hadn't taken the time yet to appreciate what all these revelations truly meant.

He wouldn't even pretend to fight that this was a fact. That his birthday, something he would have known to be a fact less than a week ago, simply wasn't. His eyes only widened when his brain jumped onto the next consequence from that. He must have looked positively pale for Miss Potts moved closer, one of her hands now holding him steady by his arm, worry so clearly radiating from her. But he couldn't help but press the matter, regardless of how much this would turn his life even more upside down.

"It's... it's not just the day, is it?" His eyes stung. His voice sounded panicked even to himself. "I'm... I'm not even 15. Oh... oh god, I—"

"It's alright, darling, just..." she blew out a shaky breath herself. "You're still you, okay? This doesn't change who you are. It's just a date, a number someone told you about."

Just a number. The little laugh that bubbled out of him almost bordered on hysterical and even though it felt like he was overreacting, even in that very moment, he just couldn't help it as his mind was turning those dates around and around, details popping up, that he had so far elected to ignore.

"2003. I... no, I—" He tried to physically recoil from the very idea but the weight of Miss Potts's hands-on him kept him in check.

"Just breathe. You're okay." She rubbed his arm and the low hum of her voice did make him feel a little better, even if it changed nothing about how messed up all this was.

"But... but I'm a Sophomore. I... I'm not a kid like that, I'm not—"

It explained some things though. It explained why all of his classmates had always been taller than him, why he hadn't fit in, though none of that had ever kept him from succeeding.

Miss Potts' hand squeezed his arms once more. "Tony went to MIT when he was 14. This doesn't change anything about you, darling. About what you can do."

"That's different." He shook his head. How could she even compare them like that? "Mr. Stark is... it's different for him. He was special. Is special and I... I'm just me."

"You're his son."

The way she said it. The confidence. No hesitation. Like she knew for sure, which... Well, there was a difference between knowing and believing. Maybe if he had some more time. Time to wrap his mind around it and time to talk to Mr. Stark about everything that had happened. Everything that he had found.

"Miss Potts, please I—"

"Pepper." She looked like it physically pained her when she had to correct him.

"Right." Peter's throat itched at the thought, but he was determined to try. "Pepper." It sounded way too informal rolling off his tongue just like that. "Please. Just... Can you just.. just... Please, just don't let him leave. Please." The corner of her mouth twitched like she was considering his request. Maybe... maybe he could convince her in the end. "Please. It's not fair."

She had said it didn't change anything about him, the age thing, but that wasn't true. It changed how Mr. Stark treated him for one. He hadn't really considered that before but it made perfect sense. He thought Peter couldn't handle this, that he was too young to deal with the things they'd been dealing with. That's what had changed ever since he found out. "He treats me like I'm broken, but I'm not. I'm fine! I..."

Her eyebrows were knitted closely together. "Are you?"

"Yes, I..." He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but his voice still sounded strained regardless. "I can be. I will be. I just... he doesn't need to... I'm still me. You just said that yourself. Please, I really can be."

She fell quiet for a long minute before her voice echoed along the balcony once more, calm and a little less collected than he had expected. "Maybe it's us. Maybe we're too broken, honey."

His mouth was still open to protest but the words died on his tongue at that look on her face. Deep lines of sorrow that made her look a lot older than any of those glossy pictures they would print of her in magazines and spread on social media would ever show.

"We will be back. I know we will be, I promise. Tony will... I know... I know this is a horrible thing to even ask of you, but he just needs a little time, a little time to process, but I'm sure—"

Peter shook himself out of his trance. "What if something happens?" He couldn't help himself, tired of that same talking point the Widow had tried on him.

"Nothing will happen. You're safe." She shook her head, denying the scenario.

"Well, what if it does? What am I supposed to do then? What if someone dies because I have to sit on my hands?"

"That's not on you. There are grown-ups who help with those things!" Two deep breaths and still her voice wasn't as steady as she'd likely had been aiming for. "And if someone were to threaten you, he'll come back. He'll make sure you're okay."

"He'll know because he keeps watching me." She didn't answer that and it was all the confirmation he needed. "So, he gets to monitor me, he'll know what I'm doing but I... I have no idea. I don't know if he's close by or what's happening to him? If he needs help. That's not fair!"

Her eyes weren't on him, but staring unseeingly at nothing in particular. Maybe he was getting through to her. Maybe she was starting to listen.

"I can help him." His voice was quieter than before, but he meant it. He knew he could and he knew that Mr. Stark would need it. "I can... I can do things to help him. I would have his back."

Just as he wondered if she was trying to make up another excuse for Mr. Stark, she shook herself out of her trance and all of a sudden her arms were wrapped around him. She pulled him close just like she had done that afternoon in Mr. Stark's lab.

"That's part of why he's doing this, isn't it? He knows you would and he doesn't want you to do just that." Her voice was so low, almost like she was talking more to herself than to him. "He loves you so much, darling."

Peter's arms had hung slack by his sides at first, but he couldn't help how her genuine affection melted away his resistance. Before he knew it he clung to her even if all of that didn't change that she was wrong. The lump in his throat was persistent and his voice sounded rough even to his own ears.

"He... he loves the idea of someone like me. The idea of his son reappearing, not... not me. It has nothing to do with me." It was a weird concept that he couldn't really do anything with. He knew that Mr. Stark worried about him, of course, but love. That was a big word.

She held him even closer at that, shaking her head. "You're wrong about that."

Peter wanted to argue at first, but there was awfully little left for him to say. Mr. Stark's actions spoke louder than words. He was leaving. That was the bottom line. Everything else was second to that. He would rather leave than stay close to him. Peter was so over all that safety talk, all the excuses. He rejected that narrative she was trying to construct because he knew better.

"I know what he said." He shook his head again, hands letting go off Miss Potts and just like that she leaned away from him as well and he felt a little colder because of it. "I know what he meant."

"You think you do." Her hands were in her lab now, intertwined with each other like she needed to keep herself from reaching for him. "And still, you're here, aren't you. You still came here tonight even though you tell yourself he doesn't care?"

"I... I just." Heat spread from his cheeks all the way to his ears. It was humiliating to have it pointed out as plainly as she did, his desperate attempt for attention. Like a little kid. "I didn't... It's not... it's just... Mr... Mr. Stark took my suit and... and I don't..."

He shot a glance over at her but she didn't even twitch. Didn't raise her eyebrows in surprise or anything. Just looked at him, studying his every move. "That's why you came here tonight? For your suit?"

He gave his head a quick shake. Of course that wasn't why he had come there but the real reason... well. The real reason was a bit more complicated. Finding words for that was more of a challenge.

"I... I can't—" His voice broke on him, heavy and low. One deep breath was not enough to pull himself together. He couldn't lose Mr. Stark. It was as simple as that. Heat must have been radiating off his face. It just sounded so melodramatic, even just the thought, and he didn't even mean it like that. Not really. It implied that Mr. Stark was somehow his to lose in the first place, which of course was... well. Not... not officially. More in-officially. He could never admit to that level of dependence on the man though. That would be sad... sad and pathetic. He'd only met him 6 months ago after all. Well, maybe things were a little more complicated than that. In the end, maybe it was about the suit, about Spider-Man. About his _mentor_, not all the other weird stuff. Peter couldn't just stay away and sit on his hands. He would still have to do something with his powers. Something to help. He would but...

Without Mr. Stark... Without Mr. Stark, he couldn't... Couldn't even imagine how to be Spider-Man anymore. How he would ever manage to do any of it. Not like he was supposed to. _Allowed_ to. Mr. Stark desperately wanted him to stop, but it was like asking him to stop being himself. Like he was supposed to suffocate a part of himself. The thought made him sick.

"It's a part of me," he whispered, eyes still low. "I can't... I can't not and I... I don't want to stop being that I..." He swallowed hard. Deep down, it was about more than just losing a part of himself. "Last time he went off on his own when I could have helped, Siberia happened and I... I don't know how I'm supposed to live with myself if something were to happen." His thumb slowly rubbed over the light shadows on his wrists, the last reminder of the wounds that the cuffs had cut into his hand. His healing factor had taken care of those in just a couple of days. "He's just human and now that they're back, who knows... who knows what they'll do to him."

Her hand covered his, kept him from rubbing at the skin on his wrist. "You're human, too, darling. A boy, you—" She stopped herself abruptly and frowned. "Wait, who's back?"

Peter pursed his lips, making a bit of an effort to keep his lingering resentfulness in check. "The Rogues. Rogers. The Widow. Them."

Miss Potts' eyebrows knitted even closer together. "What are you talking about?"

Peter couldn't help but actually snort and looked away from her. Some of the Widow's deductions were true then, not that he was all too surprised by it. "He really didn't tell you, did he? Of course he didn't. I only found out because I accidentally hacked into his secret server."

She actually gasped at that. "You did what?"

He flinched and send her an apologetic smirk. "I swear it was an accident. I was just trying to disable the tracker on my suit."

She exhaled deeply. "That DNA test really is a bit redundant."

Peter looked down at his hand that still lay securely in hers. He didn't want to think about that. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to know more about how similar they were so he dropped the piece of knowledge that was sure to stir the conversation away from him and his pedigree.

"It was Rogers." He looked up at her, but only found her face drawn with confusion, still not following. "Siberia," he added. "Him and Barnes. There's a video on Mr. Stark's server. A recording of everything up until the arc on his suit was destroyed."

"Wh—what? Steve?"

Her eyes were wide, her face had gone completely slack. Peter just bit his lip and then nodded. Those pictures were burned into his mind. He couldn't help but flinch as a cold shiver went down his spine at the memory of those scenes. Rogers' betrayal. Just for a moment, he contemplated telling her about that secret as well, but he couldn't. It was a step too far. That was Mr. Stark's story to tell. "The last thing you see is Rogers' shield crashing into his helmet and then going for the arc."

Her grip on his hand had tightened, was almost painful.

"Does... does Tony know that you've seen this?" She sounded almost out of breath.

"Yeah." He gave a light shrug. "One of the reasons why he took the suit away."

"This... This is why you went to confront Steve."

He couldn't help the deep flush of hot redness creeping into his face. Peter bit his lip, then nodded. He'd do it again. Even now. If Rogers ever dared to threaten Mr. Stark again, Peter wouldn't hesitate. Not after how Rogers had left him behind. Not when he could still see Mr. Stark in that hospital bed, bruised and cut up, kept alive by machines. Those memories would never fade.

"Oh, honey..." She reached for his hand, held it tightly. "He's alright. It's okay."

He didn't know where that intuition came from, how she so precisely guessed what he was thinking, what was weighing on his soul. Maybe his face just did give it away. Mr. Stark had always said his face was transparent.

"He was so mad." Peter whispered, eyes not meeting hers. "He was so mad when he found out I knew."

"He's not now. I promise you, he isn't. He's only worried about you, scared you'll get hurt. Again."

They were going round and round in circles and Peter wasn't sure if he could handle another batch of excuses.

"I... What am I supposed to do now? I... I can't tell May, can I? How would I even and Mr. Stark said not to tell anyone and I... I don't know what to do."

"Okay." She nodded, thinking. "Alright. Here is what we'll do. FRIDAY, my number needs to be in Peter's phone. My personal number. If he calls, you'll put him through no matter what."

_**"Yes, ma'am."**_

Her teeth pulled at her lip and she gave a short nod before both her hands cupped his face. "You can call. You can text. I don't care what time it is, if you are in trouble or just want to talk or just want to vent. I don't care, I'm here."

Peter swallowed hard, struggling to keep his chin from trembling with emotion. "But... but Mr. Stark will find out. He... he'll be so mad, I—"

"I'll deal with Tony. You don't even have to worry about that."

"But..." His eyes stung. He'd already broken the rules by showing up at the Tower. Continuing to defy the man's wishes, would probably only get him into more trouble and as much as Peter hadn't cared when he had been climbing up the exterior wall of the Tower, he was still scared now. Scared, what else Mr. Stark would do to push his bogus plan through.

"It doesn't matter what Tony thinks of this, you'll never be alone with any of it, darling. You'll always have me in your corner and I have a jet I can send to come and get you that flies from LA to New York in just over 3 hours."

Her thumbs brushed away his tears before they could even trail down to his cheeks. "Isn't that Mr. Stark's company's jet?"

She didn't even flinch. "Last time I checked, I was still CEO."

Peter couldn't keep the nervous laugh down that bubbled out of his mouth. "What if he fires you?"

Her eyes were straight on him, unblinking. "I'd do it all the same."

She sounded sincere and with everything he had come to know about her, with just how she had treated him those last two days, he kind of believed her. "Thank you, Miss Potts." He had said it before he could catch himself and there was a flash of sadness in her features. "I... I'm sorry, I... I mean... Thank you... Thank you—"

Her thumbs both drew a small circle on his cheeks and with a soft squeeze, she let go of him. "It's alright, darling. You're okay." The smile on her lips was a little sad. "Don't worry about it."

It made him feel stupid and awkward when he wanted nothing more than to be cool with her warmness, her familiarity. "I... I should probably go. Get... get back home."

Her head tilted, she gave a small nod. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

They sat there for another minute, quietly, and Peter didn't even get up until Miss Potts slowly rose up from the rattan sofa they were still sharing.

"Right," he whispered. Three long steps and he was at the balustrade, careful not to look back so he wouldn't lose his nerve.

"Wait! Don't!" She was right behind him, both hands on his arm pulling him back from the edge of the building. "There's... there's a car downstairs. Don't... I can't—"

He shot a look at her over his shoulder, her hands still firm on his arm. "It's fine. I... I've done this before. I'm not like... gonna fall or anything."

Her eyes were wide, almost panicked. "Please, just... It's dark and I... please, just take the car."

His gaze turned to the penthouse behind her instead, the living room windows still only dimly lit.

"Please, Peter. He's... Tony's asleep. It's... please."

Peter swallowed hard but nodded. "Yeah... yeah, okay."

She led the way and he followed close behind her in a bizarre game of pretend like those rooms were foreign to him, like he hadn't walked on those tiles so many times before, hadn't taken that elevator down to the parking deck on his way home for months on end. Every second it took for them to get from the balcony door to the elevator car, he was prepared for his mentor to just pop up out of the shadows. But that never happened. The apartment was quiet, the lights were down. She was just as quiet next to him and Peter wondered how much Mr. Stark had really told her, if she knew how familiar he was with the Tower and if she maybe just ignored all that so it wouldn't be so weird that she rode that elevator down to the lowest level with him.

The doors opened onto the parking deck and it was as empty as always save for Mr. Stark's personal car ready to be used whenever it was required. Peter's fingers picked at each other. He wasn't quite sure what to do now. How to say goodbye. Pepper Potts hesitated just the same if only for a moment. Then she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. Peter closed his eyes leaning into her hug. He had a sudden urge to cry not knowing when he would see her again. Either one of them.

"You call, I don't care if you run out of lunch money or if you need a lawyer, okay? I want you to call me and I'll do everything I can to help."

He nodded into her shoulder, his arms tightly wrapped around her, but couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"I'll miss you, darling. I'll see you so very soon. I promise."

His tongue too heavy to speak, he just nodded again and he might have opted to just stay there until things magically turned out okay but she slowly unwrapped herself from him. Just so he couldn't change his mind, he quickly walked over to the waiting car. As it made its way out of the parking garage, Peter did turn around at last, the bright light from the elevator car still shining into the dark park deck. Pepper Potts still rooted to the ground, arms tightly slung around herself, watching as the car took him back to Queens.

* * *

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_[I have actually tried to shorten this chapter and maybe a beta or an editor would have made me cut it down, but since I have neither I get to keep all the things I like in here no matter that it made for a monster long chapter ;)_

_I'll still ridiculously busy with my new place guys, but as always I'm hoping to be a little quicker with the next few updates ;)_

_Thank you guys so much for the kudos and comments! Really appreciated it!]_


	53. Intent Matters - Chapter 53

**Chapter 53 - Intent matters**

They hadn't said a lot to each other, not after their talk the night before. It was possible that she was simply mad at him. Mad that after all these years when he had always made a point of being strong and risking his neck that this was the moment he was running away.

What else could you call this? He sure had felt like a coward who was just running away when he had ushered Pepper into a car without more than a breakfast coffee, off to LaGuardia. They hadn't spoken in the car. She had been on the phone with the LA headquarter. He had been on the phone with Neil, his East Coast realtor. Not that it mattered how he felt about what he was doing. This wasn't about him.

They had been on the plane for more than an hour now. More than an hour of silence after their calls, both staring at their devices. He was reading through the files FRIDAY was still steadily adding to the heap of unsorted information on the adoption agency. He had been doing just that even before the sun had come up. Pepper was doing the same. Not that she had told him. Not that it shouldn't have been obvious that she would, but every once and again he had seen files time-stamped with her initials after she had accessed them.

She was sitting opposite him, not next to him. Too far for him to reach out to her with the wide table between them, but close enough that he could study her. A comfy blanket slung around her shoulders, she had pulled her legs up onto the seat. Her posture did carry all the body language signs that told him she was keeping her distance deliberately. She probably was mad, though there was a chance that it wasn't just that. It was just as likely that there was a tinge of guilt as well. After all, there was a very solid reason, why he had rushed them out of the city at the first available take-off slot that morning.

He cleared his throat, eyes still on her. "I don't blame you, you know. I'd never blame you for wanting to talk to him."

Her eyes shot up at him, lips pressed close.

"What?" Tony tried to shrug but to his irritation his shoulders only did a slightly uncoordinated wobble, his body still to strung up with nerves and anxiety. "You think FRIDAY wouldn't tell me? That I'm not having her monitor the boy's every move?"

"He's desperate." She dropped the tablet in her lap, eyes intensely on him. "He doesn't want to lose you."

Tony waved her off. "We already had this discussion. We agreed—"

"We didn't agree, Tony. You decided."

"Fine. I decided. I decided on the one way there is, Pepper."

"Come on, that's not—"

"Stop. Please..." He shook his head, eyes not on her but the horizon outside the plane's window. "I'll not risk him and that's the end of it."

He had assumed that shutting her down like that would set the mood for the rest of the flight. Would reaffirm how irritated she was by his decision and that they would spend the rest of their trip in silence but as so often when it came to Pepper, she surprised him.

"He knows about Siberia."

His eyes darted over to her, his mouth opened to speak but his breath was caught in his throat, stunned by the sharp turn the conversation had taken. "That... That's not—"

"He knows more than I do."

Tony swallowed hard, but still sounded breathless. "Not because I told him."

"Tony, you—"

"You think I want him to know?" He dropped his own tablet at that, stinging eyes non-withstanding. "The last thing I wanted was for the kid to be pulled into any of that mess."

"Tell me what happened." Her eyes were serious. "Tony, do you really want me to remind you that we have a deal?"

"Our deal..." He pursed his lips, determined to reign in his frustration. He wasn't even mad at her, only at the universe. "You just spent an evening chatting with the boy even though you know that I don't want him anywhere near us, that I want to keep him safe from people who would target him just because they see him near me and you didn't even tell me."

She shrugged up both her arms and let them fall with a sigh. "What should I have done? Just throw him out?"

"Of... of course not." He stared out of the window. "You could have told me."

She didn't answer right away. "Maybe. Maybe I should have." The leather on her chair creaked but she didn't get up, only repositioned herself in the seat, feet on the ground, blanked discarded on the seat behind her, she leaned further towards him. "Tony, you're hurting and I didn't want to make it worse."

There was no doubt in his mind that what she was saying was true. She loved him, had come back for him more than once in the last few months, and no matter what they had been through recently, how detached they had become from each other's lives, there was no denying that nobody on the planet knew him better than she did. Knew his heart better than she did.

"I'm sorry." She said it quietly. No need for her to clarify, that she was sorry she hadn't told him, not about the time she had gotten to spend with the kid. He had meant it though, he could never hold it against her that she had jumped at the chance to spend that time with the boy. He'd likely have done the same, not strong enough to turn him away when he should for Peter's sake. That's why they had to get out before Tony could lose that fight against his wants versus the boy's needs.

Tony cleared his throat, hoping it would help him control his voice but it still came out heavy with emotion. "He... he was fine, right? I mean..." One deep breath in and out. "Nothing had happened, right?"

"He wanted to see you." She said it slowly, softly and he appreciated that he kept all vibes of reproach out of her voice no matter how much she resented what he made them do. "Wanted to keep you from leaving. Honey, he thinks you're mad, that you don't want him."

"But I... I told him that's not... I... I talked to him! I explained why we can't stay. I _told_ him I wanted to stay!"

"That's all just words though, honey. He's..." Her eyes became unfocused for a moment as she seemed to be lost in her memories. "You find out he's yours and the first thing you do is leave. I mean... Can you blame him? It's not a crazy leap to make. He's overwhelmed with what's happening around him."

"No. No, of course not, but I... he's smart. He's so smart he—"

"He'd just a boy, Tony. He has lost his... well, the people he trusted most and then lost another guardian just last year and now you're leaving, too."

Tony brushed away that idea, openly rejected it. "He's been coming to the lab for a few months, it's not... you can't... you can't compare that, Pep! You said it yourself, there is no magic DNA connection."

"No, but there is a real-life connection. Tony, you were there for him during some of the most traumatic experiences of his life. That... that stab wound? When you took care of him? And now you came to his rescue, saved his life."

Tony tried to breathe through his emotions, tried to hold onto the little control he had. "And why is it that he had to go through those traumatic events. If only there was a common denominator that could be erased so his life would be a little less traumatic."

He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice even though he felt bad when Pepper let her head hang low and avoided his eyes. Deep down she knew he was right. That no amount of emotional support would keep the boy healthy in the high-risk environment Tony would pull him into.

"He was asking about his mother."

His hand squeezed the armrest of his chair. It felt like she had just pulled out the rug from underneath him. "What? What did you say?"

"I just... I told him her name was Aileen and... and that she died."

"Pep..." He didn't even know how he was supposed to feel about that. "Did he... did he not ask... did he..." He sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. "If he finds out about... about how she died..." His throat was dry, not cooperating. "He's gonna blame himself, isn't he? That she died."

"If he's anything like you." She arched her brows at him.

"You trying to be funny, Pep?"

She blew out a frustrated breath, eyes on him. "He's confused and lost. He wants answers and I don't blame him."

Tony turned back towards the window, couldn't stand the guilt that it triggered in his gut. It would be hard for the kid, sure, but it was still better this way than to have him really hurt or worse, dead.

"I did tell him about... about the stroke." His heart froze in his chest, his eyes back on her, but she put up both of her hands, effectively stopping him from interrupting. "Just... just the stroke, nothing about it... it being complications after labor or anything. Just... just that." Her face showed all the signs of the struggle this was for her, her allegiances to him and Aiden battling for superiority. "Tony, please—"

"I'm doing what's best for him!" Even though he wanted to keep his voice low, to sound reasonable, he had a hard time reigning himself in. Pepper's face fell a little more and he had to look away, desperate to keep his frustrated growl bottled up inside. "We can't keep having the same argument."

"Tony, I know you hate changing your mind, but... just, please, this once, please just think about what this does to him."

He shook his head, jaw set. They all kept acting like he was doing all this on a whim. That he would go out of his way to hurt every single person he loved just because he was too stubborn? He hated every second of this and still, it was what was necessary! It was the only way. He crossed his arms in front of himself, still kept his gaze fixed on the sky outside. The clouds were thin and the wide bare plains of what was likely Kansas stretched out underneath them. Nothing to see and still better than the disappointment written all over her face. He stared out of that window for only a few minutes but the silence between them only agitated him more. He did feel guilty for leaving his boy, of course he did, but what other option did he have? How could _she_ be so stubborn and refuse to see that he—

As he shot a careful glance at Pepper, his thoughts came to a sudden stop. She had her elbow perched on the armrest, her hand hiding her face as she stared down at her tablet. Her other arm was curled around her stomach and it made her look like she was just reading but there was no flare beaming up. The screen was black and mirrored a reflection of her face instead, eyes pressed tightly closed, face pulled into a painful expression.

"Pep?" His voice was still rough but low.

Her eyes blinked open and she twitched as if caught doing something she shouldn't do.

"Honey, what—"

He had made to stand, to go to her but a swift movement of her hand stopped him in his tracks. She turned her face away from him towards the other side of the plane, her finger repeatedly wiping the moisture away from her eyes.

Tony blew caution to the wind. Somewhat elegantly, he maneuvered himself across the table and came to sit in the empty seat between Pepper and the window. She scoffed at him though he didn't fail to put a cautious smile on her lips.

"What else did he ask, Pep?" He still kept his hands to himself, giving her space. All this between them was still so fragile.

"It... it's not..." She shook her head avoiding his eyes. "Nothing. It's... nothing."

"You don't cry about nothing."

"I'm crying because you're being an idiot, how about that?" She pressed both her palms against her eye sockets and as she pulled them away again, she blinked quickly, trying to pull her emotions back inside.

"If me being an idiot would make you cry, you would have spent a lot more of the past 15 in tears." He kept studying her but she wouldn't look up. "15 plus years." Another pause, still no response. "Feels more like 20. Are we old enough for it to be 20 years?"

She gave her head a quick shake but didn't hit him with one of their trademark banters in response.

"You know that deal goes both ways, right? The no-bullshit one."

She blew out a huff. "That's not true."

"Well, we'll make it true then. Tell me."

She looked down at her knees, lip caught between her teeth. Tony gave her another moment to collect her thoughts, maybe to figure out what truly had triggered her emotions like that, but it was Pepper. She'd know, wouldn't she?

"He erm... he apparently assumed or... I guess not assumed but he... well, he thought that you and I, that... that we might have been dating back then and I just—" She shook her head.

"Pep..."

"That's... that's when I told him about Aileen. He just, he wanted to know if I know who his mother is and, well..." She shrugged. "I did. It's stupid to get emotional over that. I guess I'm just sleep-deprived and a bit... I don't even know."

"Don't do that, Pep. Don't brush this off like you were a distant acquaintance. Aileen might have given birth to him but you raised him just as much as I did."

She pushed out a deep breath, not looking at him. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Pepper, come on you—"

"This isn't about me. I was your PA, and no matter what... what we are to each other now, it doesn't change the past. And that's fine."

"Pep, you were there every day."

"I wasn't. Not... not every day. I mean it was my job to be there, I—"

"Enough! You don't get to do this. You are part of his life. You have always been a major part of his life. There is literal video evidence of it." His heart gave a painful squeeze at that and he cleared his voice. "Video evidence that... that he has been, well, what do the kids say these days... he's kinda been binging those."

Her eyes were wide and round as she finally looked up at him. "What are you talking about?"

His lips pulled in a bit of an apologetic smile. "All these videos from, you know, from when Addy was little, they are all stored on my server and... and the kid, well..." Tony shrugged. He still couldn't really wrap his head around that.

"He watched them?" She sounded almost breathless. "When... when did he watch them?"

Tony grimaced. "When he hacked my server, he... Well, yeah, he watched them." Her lips were pressed shut, her eyes a little glazed over as she surely tried to think back to that time long gone. "Didn't know it was himself he was watching then of course, just..." He shrugged again, still a little squeamish about the details himself. "Of course he assumed, Pep. He saw you in those, saw how much you cared for him. Everyone who saw you together knew how much you loved him. How much you do love him."

She had her eyes pressed close, one hand covering her mouth. He should pull her close, hug her tightly but he wasn't quite done. There were some things he still had to say to her. Things he should have told her over a decade ago. A deep breath in, he wanted to use his words well.

"The only reason I never asked you to be his godmother was because I didn't want you to feel like... like you had to say yes just because well, because of the job."

"Tony..."

"Just... just let me finish. Please."

She stayed quiet, one hand still covering her mouth but her eyes on him, tears clinging to her lashes.

"The only reason I never asked you to stay then was because Addy loved you and I was terrified I'd ruin what we had." He made a point not to look away, to let her see him. "Pep, the only reason I never told you that I loved you after Aiden was born was because I knew I'd screw up and that when I did he'd lose you."

He lost his nerve at last, bowed his head down, eyes on his hands. The irony of his words wasn't lost on him. The fact that after all these years he was taking her away from him just like he had always feared he would. He was literally forcing her out of the kid's life as his plane carried her thousands of miles away from him, putting most of the country between them.

His throat was dry. "I'll... I'll find a better way. When I know all the variables, alright? We... we'll think of a better way to do this. To keep him safe and also for... for us not to go insane. So we can see him. I... I guess it'd be fine if you went. As long as I'm not there, it would be safer, right? You could go and see him. I can even like... think of something dumb to do to keep the attention away from you and... and he can visit or something, but it would have to be safe."

She did move at that, he could tell even out of the corner of his eye. The rattling of the engine, the wind ripping at the exterior walls of the plane was all that cut through the silence as her hand found his. It didn't take more than a soft tug and she slid over to him as he pulled her close.

"I love you, Tony."

He swallowed hard, his throat felt like sandpaper, but he nodded against her.

"Maybe... maybe call him at least? Just... just to talk to him. He needs you, honey, he really does."

This was how it would start, wasn't it? He would give in to this, watering down the rules he had set in place to keep the kid safe and before he'd know it they'd get sloppy and the kid would end up hurt. In the past 8 years, ever since he had become Iron Man, he had lost sleep and nerves over how to keep Pepper safe and he had failed more than once. How was he ever going to protect both of them?

"When we know more." He had his arms slung around her tightly, holding her as close as the airplane seat would allow. "When I know what exactly I'm protecting him from. When I know who did this."

"Why did they take him?" Her voice was muffled against the fabric of his shirt. "I still... it makes even less sense now than it ever did. Why?"

"To hurt us. To hurt me. It's..." Tony swallowed hard. He had thought about that a lot. There didn't seem to be any other rational explanation. In all these years, there was nobody who had benefited from Aiden's disappearance. Sure, the Parker's had gotten a son to adopt out of it, but of all the children in America, why would anyone go to the trouble and steal a heavily monitored, protected, and sought-after kid like his? No, there was only one explanation. "That's all that's come from this. That we had to live without him. He without us."

"Then why is he alive, Tony? Why?" Her forehead was pressed against his shoulder as she slowly shook her head in frustration. "If that's all they wanted... If they just wanted to punish you for something, make you suffer, then why risk keeping him alive?"

The bluntness of the question left him momentarily speechless. "I... Pep, I don't—"

Her hand wandered up and carefully came to rest against his chest, just next to the spot where his bullet wound was healing. "It just... It makes no sense. Why did someone steal him and just left him with a random family in New Hampshire? Why did they let him live?"

Goosebumps broke out all over Tony's skin. But as harsh as those words rang in his ears, she did have a point.

She was still pressed close against him. "Why? Who benefits from Addy being gone but not dead?"

"I don't know, honey, I..." His voice broke, the thought of all the things that could have happened to his boy made him physically ill.

"Hey..." Pepper sat up straight on his lap, her hands still on him as her eyes found his. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." She blew out a shallow breath, her hand traveling up. It came to rest on his cheek then ran up and into his hair, her thumb slowly rubbing across the point on his forehead where about a day ago a big gash had decorated his face.

Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown and her hand stopped. "What... oh... oh god, what if they didn't?" A shudder went through her body that visibly shook her, her eyes growing wide. "What if they think he died on... on a country road in New Hampshire 8 years ago?"

Their eyes locked and realization rushed over Tony deeply chilling him to his very bones. A surge went through him that made him abruptly stand, Pepper still pressed close to him.

"They tried to kill him. Oh... Oh my god." He was going to be sick. "The Parker's... it wasn't an accident, was it? It—" He reached around her, had to hold on to the table in front of him just so his knees wouldn't give way.

Stunned silence settled between them. His mind wanted to race, find the answers, but he wasn't even sure if he was asking the right questions. Why? Why wait another 3 years to kill him? No. He pulled in a couple of deep breaths. No, it didn't make any sense. They were seeing monsters where there were only shadows in the dark,

"That... Pep, why would they have done it then? Why wait? If they wanted him dead, they'd... they'd have killed him and just made him disappear and we wouldn't be any the wiser. Might have—" He tried to breathe away the nausea that was trapped in his middle, trying to steady himself, expelling that alternate scenario from his imagination. "Might have never known."

Pepper didn't seem to listen though, kept shaking her head, small jerky motions back and forth. "Before... maybe... maybe before they thought that they might have to use him. They... they thought they might need him and then they didn't anymore." Her voice was just a low murmur, her eyes unfocused.

Deep breaths. He needed to calm the fuck down. "Okay, let's just take a moment and... and think."

"Because you were dead." Her eyes snapped over to meet his. "You were dead. For all we knew, you..." Her voice was shaking. Her breaths sounded too close to a whimper. "You were dead."

His limbs were numb as he slowly reached behind himself. He had to sit. If he didn't sit he was going to faint. The noise of his blood rushing in his ears made his head swim.

April 2008. He was still a prisoner in a cave somewhere in Afghanistan at that time. They had all thought him dead.

"He would have inherited the company." Pepper was leaning heavily against the table behind her, both hands clutching the edge. "There's..." She sucked in a couple of quick breaths and blew them out slowly, but her voice sounded just as broken. "There's only one person who benefited from Addy not being there to inherit your company. Your assets."

"No." He sounded stronger than he would have thought possible. "No, Pep, that... No! He... he wouldn't have. No. No, he wouldn't have done that!"

Pepper leaned forward, both hands on his arms now but she was shaking just as much as he did. "Honey..."

"No. Not... not to Addy. He... he wouldn't. He was there that day at the house he—"

Obadiah had been there alright, consoling him. Talking him down. Concerned and invested in the police work. Had made sure to take care of business while Tony tried to deal with his son's disappearance.

"He kept the board off my back for months, Pep."

"He got to direct the company as he pleased, made decisions without consulting you. Without as much as informing you!"

"He was worried for Addy, always... always asked for updates."

"Because he didn't want to get caught!"

"No... No!" His legs still felt like rubber but he stood up out of the chair all the same. Even if he would fall on his face, another moment sitting down would kill him. "He always tried to help with the detectives, too. Brainstormed with me and Rhodey he—"

"To lead you down the wrong track!"

"Pep, stop." Pacing up and down the aisle, his hands were sweating. "He wouldn't have done that!"

"He tried to kill you, Tony. You. Me. Innocent people on the freeway." She tried to stop him, tried to still him but Tony couldn't handle the idea of not doing something. "He wanted the company and without Aiden, he would have been next in line!"

"Addy was just a boy, he was just a little kid!" His throat was raw. He felt dumb for screaming, weak, but she was wrong. It couldn't be true. "We checked." Tony took a couple of deep breaths, desperate to calm himself. "After he died, we did check all his accounts. There was nothing. It... it can't have been him."

"Maybe we missed something." She forced her voice to stay soft, he could tell that much.

"JARVIS wouldn't have missed things."

"JARVIS didn't know what we know now. The name of the agency, where Addy was all this time. That... that second incident." She stepped into his path now, grabbed him by both arms. "Honey, let's just... just think about what this would mean." She stood close to him, rubbing his arms slowly. "He'd be safe, then, right? Stane is dead. He's gone. He—"

"He was dead last week as well." She stopped, lips pursed at his refusal to give in. "He was dead last week and someone still took the kid and tortured him."

Her hands fell off him and she spun around, arms tightly wrapped around herself. She hadn't seen him when Tony had brought him back from that bunker. Hadn't even heard the details of what they had done to his boy. It had been early the next morning after the cradle had already done wonders for the kid, that Pepper had arrived. If anything, he envied her for he couldn't get the images out of his head. The kid tied to a chair, blood on his face, on his body. How small he looked when he was lying on that stretcher in the med wing, passed out, so vulnerable. He hated those memories and at the same time he used them every time he was tempted to do the selfish thing and just take what was his, he pulled them up every time to remind himself what the boy had suffered by the mere association with Tony Stark.

One deep breath and he stepped up to Pepper, slung his arms around her, pressed against her back, chin resting on her shoulder.

"Tell me what they did." Her voice shook, barely audible over the engine sounds.

"You don't want to know, Pep. They hurt him. Believe me, you don't want to picture how."

She clasped her hand over her mouth, stifling the soft sobs as she shook in his arms.

"He's fine now." He held her tight, his face buried in the crook of her neck. "He's safe now. We'll keep him safe."

His arms loosened a bit as she turned to face him, then let herself be pulled close by him. It would be a tough time for them to come to terms with everything that had happened, with everything they still had to do to make sure his son was safe. This would never be easy and there were still so many open ends.

"FRI, expand analytics from Aiden's folder to every single file you have access to and find me all the connections to WAF America you can dig up. Alert for anything that has a specific connection to us or anyone we know."

Pepper held onto him a little tighter. She still believed that they would find a way and he loved her for her fire. For her optimism. For how much she craved to have his son back in their lives.

"Come on." His lips pressed against her temple, he slowly detangled their bodies, then made for the seat he had originally gotten out of to comfort her.

Pepper picked up her tablet and came to sit in the chair next to him, her feet pulled up once more but leaning closer to him now rather than using her posture to put distance between them. The silence between them as they both browsed through the different documents that FRIDAY had collected was different too, less charged with tension. They did want the same thing, they had all along. Less than an hour till they would arrive in LA and he couldn't really see either of them work on anything else until they found out what really happened. Until they either found the confirmation Pepper seemed so sure was out there or could dig up someone else to blame for all this.

"Tony."

Her voice had an edge to it that made him look up right away. Her face was pulled into an undefinable frown. She held her tablet out for him to take a look at. An article in a local New York paper with a bunch of pictures from an event some 5 years ago and—

"Isn't that—"

"Clarke," he bit out, the toxicity in his voice almost strong enough to burn his throat.

"That's... that's Stane next to him."

"Fuck." Tony bit his lip hard, zooming into the particular picture. "Fucking bastard."

The copy was bad, the resolution low. There was a third person in that picture he didn't recognize. He strained his eyes, trying to recognize the description underneath the picture.

"Why did this pop up? Were you searching for a connection with Obadiah?"

"No, no I was looking for references for the agency on the East Coast and this popped up."

"FRI, reverse image search on that picture." He swallowed hard.

**_"Right away, Boss."_**

"The whole article. Fuck." Clarke and Stane both. That. Shit. That couldn't be good.

A beam of light flickered to life from above them. FRIDAY was projecting the image search result he had asked her for in the highest resolution she could dig up. Tony didn't even need to zoom into the picture now. The caption was easy to read.

_Obadiah Stane with the President of the awarded WAF America, Eric Williams, and fellow honoree Sheriff Daniel Clarke, Belknap County Police Department._

"Fuck." He slammed his fist against the table. "Fuck it, Stane, you fucking monster." He hit it twice more until his hand hurt harder than his head.

"Stop it." Her hands engulfed his, carefully checked his fingers.

"It's fine. I can work with some broken fingers. I've done it before."

Her look told him to shut up. "I'm less worried about your work, more worried on a girlfriend level, Tony."

She was trying to calm him, cheeky banter, that was their thing, and he loved her for it. "I hired you because you always cared about the company more than I did."

"You did and then you expanded my responsibilities because you needed someone who cared more about you being healthy than you did as well."

He huffed out a breath that was almost humorous. "Right."

"We know he knew them now. Met them at least." Pepper pulled her tablet close again. "Still, that's not direct proof. That's circumstantial evidence at best. We still need to find a direct connection with—"

Yes, they needed concrete proof. "FRIDAY, pull up what you have on this Eric Williams. I feel like that name sounds kind of familiar. It's not a unique name, but still. Pep, have you heard tha—"

He froze as he looked over at her. Her eyes were wide, her face had gone completely white.

"What?" He sat upright in his chair, alarmed by how pale she looked. "What did you find?"

"There... there's four of them."

"Four of them?"

"Four transactions."

"Pep, I need you to be a bit more specific."

"Two from February 2005 and another two from April 2008. They..." She shook her head again. "Paid from the Stark Industries accounts."

"What transactions?" He shook his head. "How... how did we pay?"

She projected the statement she was looking at containing the four different transactions off the tablet for him to see. No extraordinary sums. A couple hundred thousand in 2005 and then another 100K each in 2008. But they were there, black on white, payments directly issued from the Stark Industries accounts to WAF America.

He felt cold, his throat dry. "Who... who approved these payments?"

"FRIDAY?" Pepper's own voice shook as well and he just now realized how pale she was.

**_"These were all approved by the board as charitable donations, Ma'am."_**

Chills went down his spine, eyes still on the projection as if it would vanish if he didn't keep staring at it. "The board?" He knew where this was going. He was sure he knew but he needed to see it. Needed to see that is was true. There wasn't anything unusual about the board approving donations. The board decided on donations all the time. It wasn't just a ridiculously easy way to give money to projects that deserved it but also a nice tax break for the company. "I need the transcripts from those meetings. Pull them up. Scan through them for whenever the company's name popped up."

His voice shook. He could feel it and he knew Pepper could hear it just the same. A sudden need to get up and pace made him jump out of his seat, but there was nowhere to go with Pepper sitting next to him, blocking his way to the aisle. She reached for his hand as they both had their eyes glued to the lines of the meeting's transcript rattling down too fast to read as FRIDAY scanned them for the agency's name. The blood froze in his veins as the first line containing the name popped up, highlighted in bright orange, the familiar name almost staring back at them from FRIDAY's projection.

Obadiah Stane

He felt sick. Physically sick. There was actual bile rising in his throat.

Pepper's hand squeezed his tightly. "It... it wasn't an accident." Her breathing wavered, sounded as nauseated as he felt. "Oh god, it wasn't an accident."

His hands held onto her as well as the table. Obadiah Stane had not just conspired to have him murder in Afghanistan to steal his company. He had started so much earlier than that. He had paid people to steal his son, had used Tony's own money to do it. And then, when he had thought that Tony was dead, when nothing was standing between him and the keys to Stark Industries, the man had wanted to make sure, that no Stark heir was ever going to spoil his treasure.

Just then, FRIDAY's alert popped up. The red flashing light of the projection pulled both their eyes.

Eric Williams. HYDRA. Head of the New York branch. Alias: The Grim Reaper.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice over Tony's head. The shock to his system let all the pieces fall into place. They hadn't just died. They were traveling in a car on a dark empty road when the car happened to run off that road and slid into a riverbed. All three people in the car were killed. Mary and Richard Parker. And the real Peter Parker. His stomach turned as the pictures of a similar supposed accident flashed in front of his eyes. His parents, killed on a lonely winter road.

Not killed, murdered. Because they were in the way. Because HYDRA wanted to take over SHIELD and his father was in their way. So HYDRA had sent their tool to finish the job, to make it look like an accident. A tool they had rented out.

"Oh... oh god, he—" Tony's stomach turned. Chills went through his body as if the plane had just fallen into an air pocket because that's how fast and deep his stomach dropped as everything clicked into place. That accident... no... that had been no accident. Stane had already seen himself with the keys to the kingdom but they had made a mistake. That other boy, May and Benjamin Parker's son had died instead of his. He had been murdered instead of his own son.

Tony's vision was turning black on the edges. He couldn't breathe, had to hold on to the table in front of him to keep himself steady.

"Barnes," he whispered, swallowing hard hoping he wasn't about to lose the content of his stomach.

"Tony." Pepper shook him, trying to get his attention. Her eyes were searching his, confused about what was happening, of what had him freak out like that. He should have told her before. Maybe Pepper could have connected the dots faster than he had.

"My parents, they didn't die in a car crash."

"I..." She blinked a couple of times, eyes not leaving his face. "I don't..."

"They were murdered by the Winter Soldier. Barnes. He staged the accident to make it look like the crash killed them."

Her lips were moving like she was trying to speak, trying to respond by the way her mouth kept working, but not a single word came over her lips.

"Barnes killed my parents." No. He gave his head a hard shake, one deep breath in hopes of kick-starting his brain. "He murdered them."

"Oh... Oh my god, Tony, that... Are you... are you sure? Maybe it—" She shut her mouth with an almost audible clap as he sent her a look. "Alright. You... You're sure. I..."

"That's why we fought. Because I found out. Steve and I. HYDRA used the Winter Soldier to murder my parents."

"I... I still don't understand, what—"

"Maybe it wasn't the only accident he staged."

Her hands dropped off him like she had been burned. The wheels in her head were spinning, trying to process, but there was no time to wait for her to catch up on what was happening. He had to do something. Now.

His phone lay discarded on the side of the table and he quickly picked it up, shaky fingers activating the touchpad. He wanted to just tell FRIDAY to dial his number at first but he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He held onto the phone with both hands, worried he might drop it otherwise. The name in his contact list was almost staring back at him. The last person he wanted to call. The last person he wanted to talk to but there was no other way. No faster way. And there was only one thing that was important.

His son.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. One click and he pulled the phone up to his ear, eyes on the ground.

"Tony?"

His tongue was frozen for just a second, the hand not holding his phone balled up into a fist as he forced the words over his lips. "Where is he?"

"I... I don't... who are yo—"

"Barnes. Is he with you? Do you... do you have him?"

"Alright, calm down. Bucky is..." Rogers sighed. "Tony, I get it, okay. You hate him for what he was made to do, but I'm telling you, it's not him. It's the—"

"—the fucking triggers in his head. I know. Steve, I think he was sent to kill my son."

"I... What? What are you talking about?"

"He was hired. Or rented. I don't even— Years ago. After they kidnapped him, Aiden... he was just hidden out of sight and when they thought I was dead... When they thought I had been killed in Afghanistan they went and hired HYDRA to murder my son. Those triggers... I... I need to know that they're gone. I need you to bring him in. Right now."

"Just... okay, just take a breath, Tony. How do you even know it was him? Bucky is doing... he's doing really well. He's... he's safe. He's monitored, alright? We're... we're working on—"

"He still in Wakanda?"

"I..."

"You think I don't know where you went? Who was sponsoring you?"

"Tony, please... just hold on a moment. Let's just... let's just figure out what happened and—"

"Have you talked to him about Aiden? Did you tell him about my son?"

The silence on the other end of the line flooded Tony's veins with fear.

"Rogers? Nat said you tell him about all the shit that you do all day. Did you tell him about my son being alive?"

"I... listen, just... just calm down for a moment. I—"

"They hired HYDRA. To kill my son. They used Barnes for those jobs until a couple of years ago. He killed the wrong kid. If he realizes that, what if that triggers him? Makes him want to finish the job, huh?

"That... that's not—" Rogers breaths came in short puffs.

Tony's pulse went haywire. He had then. He had talked to the assassin, told him that Aiden was alive, that they found him. "When's the last time you talked to him?"

"Erm, I... I'm not..."

"Steve. Please. Please tell me you know where he is. Please."

"Let me..." Roger's cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll call you right back, alright?"

The call was disconnected before Tony could even respond. If he hadn't been freaked out before, he sure was now.

"FRI, I need eyes on New York. I need eyes on Peter. Where is he?"

_**"His phone puts him in his bedroom in Queens. Do you want to place a call?"**_

Tony hesitated for a moment. His heart rate was going through the roof. Was he overreacting? Was this... was he making things worse? What if he freaked the kid out? What if he did something stupid and reckless if he called the kid now and scared him?

"Tony, what's going on? What's happening?"

He bit his lip, gave his head a little shake. "FRI, tell them to turn the plane around. Tell them to go back."

**_"Yes, boss."_**

Pepper reached for him and turned him to face her. "What's going on? Does he not know where Barnes is? You're scaring me!"

_**"Sir, the plane is not stocked with enough fuel to make it all the way back to New York City. I recommend a fuel stop outside of Denver, Colorado."**_

"Fuck." Pepper's hand on him weren't helping. He was losing it, losing the little cool he had left. "Call the kid, FRIDAY. Call him right now."

The call signal rang through the plane, clearly elevated over the white noise engines and high winds had rush in their ears. They waited and Tony grabbed the table a little stronger to stay upright as the plane made a sharp u-turn.

_**"Sir, he's not answering."**_

Pepper stood up now too, one hand on his wrist. "He's fine. I... Tony, I'm sure he's fine. He's at the apartment. He's safe."

Her words didn't help. They only freaked him out even more. That wasn't rational but then what was rational about this anymore.

He almost had a heart attack when his phone rang. It wasn't the boy though.

"Where is he?"

"Tony, listen..." Roger's voice was strained which couldn't be a good sign. "I... I can't get a hold of him right now but—"

"Oh god, oh my god, he—"

"Tony, that's not all that unusual. He's out there in the middle of nowhere in a cabin, spending most of his time herding goats. I'm... I'm sure everything is alright. If you... just... I guess just keep a close eye on the kid. Give me a couple of hours and I can clear this all up."

"I can't keep an eye on him! I'm on a plane somewhere over Nevada!" His voice sounded shrill even to his own ears.

Rogers was quiet for a moment. "Why are you in Nevada?"

"Does it matter right now?"

"Alright, we... we're just... we're not that far from New York City. Less than an hour out with the jet, maybe we can get there a bit faster. We... I guess we can stop by, make sure everything's in order."

"You told him then." His breathing was still erratic but despite his hysteria, Tony felt somewhat detached from his body. "He knows Aiden is alive."

"Your boy will be just fine."

"You... you told your assassin BFF where my son is."

"I..." Rogers cleared his throat. "I didn't know, did I? I just—"

"You know he killed people. You know what he can do! Why... _why_ would you ever bring up my son to a—"

"Nothing will happen to Aiden. To Peter. Nothing. You have my word, Tony."

Tony hung up before he could say something he would regret. Pepper had her eyes on him, wide and frightened.

"FRIDAY, try the kid again."

He let it ring five times then he had made up his mind. He slid across the table past Pepper towards the aisle.

"Tony..."

A flicker of his wrist towards FRIDAY's sensors and the armor was assembling around him.

"Tony, wait!"

He turned, faceplate still pulled up. Her hands were on his face faster than he could react. She pulled him close and kissed him hard. When she pulled away, her eyes were still shining with tears. "Please be fast. Please."

"As fast as I can be, darling."

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_[author's note: Thank you guys for following and commenting! I always love to read your reactions and theories! Thanks for sticking with the story!]_


	54. Shattered Glass - Chapter 54

**Chapter 54 - Shattered Glass**

The armor that would usually make him feel powerful and in control did none of that for him now. His skin was prickling with nerves and he wanted to pace and jump and scream, give some form of outlet to his frustrations. He was confined within the armor though, nowhere to go, eyes up ahead. Estimated flight time to New York City was 1 hour and 37 minutes. He had changed his altitude twice already, flew high and high up into the atmosphere until he held the suit steady at 60,000 feet, minimizing the resistance on the suit that would slow him down. Up there, the air was so thin, that he could push the suit's speed to its maximum.

He would be alright. The kid would be alright. Again and again, Tony tried to tell himself that he was overreacting. He was making a bigger deal about this, maybe possibly once again putting a target on the kid's back when he would be fine. But his fear overpowered his sanity. He had to know. Had to make sure.

10 minutes into the flight, Natasha had pinged him their location and he had kept it up on his head-up display ever since, following their progress. They weren't traveling that much slower in the jet than he was but they were so much closer.

He should have never left New York. He should have never, never left his kid behind.

* * *

#

* * *

_'With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts.'_

Eleanor Roosevelt. He saw that quote every day. It was written on a postcard that hung on their fridge, bright happy letters desperate to seem cheerful. It was also a lie. It was a new day and there was no new strength to speak off that Peter could tap into. His energy level was still as flat as that cake May had tried to bake for his birthday last year. His birthday that wasn't really his birthday.

He groaned, deep guttural frustration muffled by the pillow he pressed his face into. He had tried to sleep, but his thoughts just wouldn't shut up. He just couldn't stop. He had gone through everything that had happened over the last few days. Again. There just had to be a loophole. Somewhere, there had to be a way how he could fix this, how it might just all be a big misunderstanding.

His eyes shot over to his desk where he had shoved the phone the Widow had given him into one of the drawers. He should probably take it off "do not disturb" mode. Just in case Miss Potts... Just in case Pepper Potts would try to contact him. But he didn't need it ringing when May was home. Didn't need her to start asking questions about why he had yet another Stark phone lying around. Or maybe... maybe he did. Maybe he did want her to ask some questions for he had some of his own.

Not before he had taken a look at the trackers Mr. Stark must have installed on that thing though. After a second, Peter scoffed at his own ignorance. Like whatever Mr. Stark had implemented wouldn't work even if he were to turn the phone off completely.

It took him another 30 minutes of moping about how unfair all of this was before he got out of bed. He couldn't very well keep to his room all morning and in all honesty, he didn't want to. He hadn't seen May in days and so much had happened. While he was a little scared to face her, still... it was May. He had missed her. The moment Peter opened the door of his bedroom, May was all over him. She threw her arms around him like she hadn't seen him for a month, pressed a kiss against his hair and held him close like she knew. Like she knew what had happened that weekend.

No. Of course she didn't. She wouldn't hug and kiss him, smiling. If she knew, she'd be in tears and hysterics. Out of her mind with worry. No, this was just May happy to see him after he'd been away for a couple of days. Probably the longest he had ever been away from her since his parents— well. In a long time.

"I don't like this. I want to know if you want to stay somewhere over the weekend." She pressed another kiss against his temple. "In advance. A few days, preferably a week. Not via text."

"Right," he whispered, leaning into her embrace. The warmth he felt in her arms wasn't all that different from the calming anchor Mr. Stark's heartbeat provided. Different, but still pleasant. "I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"Just... just don't again. I need to know, Peter. You can't just run off places. I..." Her breathing was deep, not troubled but definitely with an air of reaching for control. "I just really need to know you're safe, okay?"

He gave a couple of small nods. His safety again. It wasn't like there'd be a repeat of that past weekend at the Compound. All that was over. Or so Mr. Stark had said. He was supposedly done with all that. Of course, the past days hadn't been anywhere within Peter's control. He hadn't had any say about coming home or not. None of it had been _planned_. He wasn't all that sure what Mr. Stark had told her, other than a story about a workshop seminar and he had no interest in having to double down on the lie to her.

"When did you get home? You... you not tired?"

She shook her head, the smile on her face still wide and genuine. "Breakfast first, alright? You need some food, honey."

Right. He nodded again. Not like he had an appetite but food wasn't the worst idea. He could do food.

"Come on. How about French toast, hm? Or some bacon? What would you like, honey?"

She pulled him along into the kitchen and Peter had neither the nerve nor the strength to refuse. Refusing would mean having to find an excuse and he was all out of those. All out of ideas and tired of talking himself out of revealing his secret. Pushed onto one of the bar stools in the kitchen, he just listened as she chatted away, trivial things about work and a story about the lady two doors down that she had overheard in the elevator. Talking more for the sake of speaking than with the intent of saying something and that was fine by him. At least he wouldn't have to actually listen. He could just have the words roll over him and have his spiraling thoughts drowned out by May's chatter.

Somewhat drowned out at least. His thoughts still circled the same questions over and over again. He had been thinking of what he could say to her all night. Of what he should ask, if he should even ask her anything. Even though Mr. Stark had said that he shouldn't—

He shook his head. That didn't matter now. The man was gone, or would be soon enough. He would leave him behind in New York and it was time that Peter took his life back into his own hands. He would have to figure out the truth himself and May had to know, right? She had to know _something_. That his parents weren't really his parents. That he had been... what? Adopted? Practically a stranger brought into their family. That he didn't even belong.

His stomach twisted painfully and it had nothing to do with being hungry. Silently, he watched her as she cracked open a couple of eggs, pulled the bacon out of the fridge.

"May?"

"Yes, honey?"

Her back was turned towards him and that made things a little awkward. If he was gonna ask her, he would want to see her face. Would want to know if she was lying or telling the truth. Would at least want to try to read her face.

"You alright, honey?"

He nodded quickly only to realize that with her back still turned she couldn't see him. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course."

Where would he even start? The adoption? They never even talked about his— about Mary and Richard. How could he just bring that up without so much as a warning? Asking her about all that could potentially blow this whole thing up and unravel just... everything. All the secrets, not just the ones he was starting to catch up on, but also his own. The ones he had so desperately kept quiet for months. She could find out about his powers if he said the wrong thing. About Spider-Man and all the danger, he had put himself in. Even worse, she could find out about how he might have been able to save Ben, if only he hadn't been sitting on his hands like a little coward. If only he had done the right thing from the beginning, if he had worked on ways to use his powers for something good and hadn't wasted weeks amusing himself with sticking to the ceiling of his room.

He'd been a coward. He couldn't do that anymore. He couldn't shy away from the truth anymore. The consequences to his actions were his to bear but he couldn't live in this limbo any longer. Couldn't deal with all these lies and half-truths for another day. It was chipping away at his soul.

"May, I... I've been wondering erm..." Words. He needed more words, better words. He didn't know where to even begin. "I've been wondering if... if maybe we could... we could maybe, erm... I... I just got a couple, a couple of questions."

The bacon was fizzing in the pan. The eggs had broken when she had put them in the second pan on the stove and she was stirring them into scrambled eggs instead. "Questions? What kind of questions, honey?"

"It's erm..." His heart was about to explode. Without all the cooking, she would likely be onto him already, would maybe realize how his nerves were spiking. "It's... it's about my parents."

She didn't turn around then and he knew right away that this had been a miscalculation. A mistake. He couldn't see her face, couldn't see her reaction.

"What... what about your parents?"

"I... I just, the... the thing is, they— I... I mean I... I was just wondering... I... I don't really... really know much about them and I just thought that... that maybe we could, you know. Talk."

She didn't turn to him, didn't even look around, just turned over the bacon. "There's not much to talk about, Peter. They both worked really hard, came home and then... then spent time with you or.. or us and... and that's all there is to it." She pushed the eggs back and forth in the pan, eyes not leaving the food. "They loved you. A lot."

"Right." The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Irritation. Maybe she really just didn't know? Peter swallowed hard. No, she had to know. Not even turning around, not even really acknowledging his question like she did, that... that was the sign of a secret. Or a lie. "I... I was thinking more like... like do I like... look like one of them or... or maybe I kinda act like one of them? Something... something like that."

She stayed quiet for so long, Peter started to wonder if she might just ignore that he had spoken altogether.

"I'm not sure, honey, I'm sorry. I... I guess your dad, he liked cars. Liked to work on them. That's a little bit like what you do with your computers and robots, right?"

Peter swallowed hard. Was this the best she could do? It took him a moment until he realized that it wasn't nerves and disappointment that made his hands shake. He was angry. He was so angry. His hands were balled into fists. He had to get out of there or he might snap and break something. His control over his body, over what he could do was quickly slipping away from him.

He turned on his heel, determined to run back to his room and then... and then something. He didn't know.

"Peter!"

There was something in her voice that made him stop, had him frozen in the middle of the living room.

"What..." When he turned and saw her face at last, her eyes were wide and he could almost feel how fast her heart was beating, the tremor in her own hands. "What... what did he say to you?"

At that, something shattered within him. She really knew then? She really did know. Of course she would. All of them, keeping their secrets. A shockwave of emotion pulsed through him. He wrung his hands, desperate to stay in control. His whole body was shaking, overwhelmed by everything that had happened around him over the last days. What had happened to him. It was all catching up to him.

"Oh, honey..." She rushed forward and Peter had to brace himself so he wouldn't flinch away, so he wouldn't try to get away from her as her arms pulled him close. "Shh, everything will be alright. God, you're shaking. It's okay."

He was about to fall into another episode, he could feel it, the strong deep vibe that rushed through him. His senses were flaring up, pushing his body to its limits. He clung to May, closed his eyes. His breathing came in fast shallow puffs of air and his head was swimming. He had to... all he had to do was to focus like... like he'd been taught. Just focus on one thing and right there that was May. Her heartbeat, the warmth of her skin.

"Peter, honey, just... just... breathe. What... just... shh, just breathe, honey."

He gasped as another wave of emotion rushed through him and cold sweat hit him like a splash of water to his face. His eyes flew open and just like his eyes so did the front door. It didn't just fly open, it was torn off its hinges.

Peter's whole body tensed. He quickly grabbed May's arm and pulled her behind him. The sound of the gunshot gave him only half a second to duck and pull May with him, out of the line of fire. She shrieked as he pushed her back into the kitchen, then ducked away from another bullet. Not fast enough. Pain exploded like hot fire in his left arm. He pushed forward into the kitchen, sought some kind of shelter behind the door frame. His head was still swimming, not sure what to do first, what to do next. The Soldier. The Winter Soldier was in their living room. With a gun. May's frantic screams were echoing in his ears as he looked down. His arm was covered in blood, dripping from a wound just above his elbow down his forearm, flowing onto his fingers.

"Oh god, oh god, no, Peter, oh god, oh—" His reflexes still somewhat functioning, he pulled her down, out of the way of another shot that penetrated the wall where a moment ago his head had been.

They couldn't die there. Not May. He couldn't let that happen. Not after Ben. Adrenaline canceled out whatever caution would usually bind him. Ignoring May's high pitched screams, he ducked around the corner, almost ran right into the Soldier. At least he had the element of surprise on his side. Plus, he was fast. Despite everything, he was so much faster than the Soldier. Fast enough to knock the gun out of the man's hand. It slithered across the living room floor and he took a dive for it, his Spider-agility giving him an advantage over the sturdy Soldier. His hand closed around the barrel of the gun, the metal uncomfortably hot in his hand and before he could change his mind, he flung it towards the window with all the strength he could muster. The weapon shattered the glass, finally out of the man's reach.

The Soldier's hands were now on him instead. A hand on his ankle pulled Peter across the floor. All his kicking didn't do a thing. His left hand didn't find any purchase on the floorboards. It was slick with blood, his blood own. His right helped him to resist though, was glued to the floor, his fingertips not loosening. But when the Soldier gave a strong tug on his legs and the board gave way, splintering as it was ripped from the ground. Peter was pulled back, pieces of wood flying with him.

"Stop. Stop!" His voice didn't even sound like his own voice, breathlessly pleading and broken.

The Soldier bent down and grabbed him by his neck. Peter's eyes bulged as his windpipe was pressed shut by the man's hand. His legs kicked, his arms punching at the man's torso as the barrel of another gun was pressed against his temple.

A loud clung had the Soldier hiss in pain. Then air filled his lungs again and Peter found himself back on the floor. Deep breaths, oxygen for his strung out brain. His skin prickled painfully. May was just behind the man, the heavy wrought-iron pan still in hand. Hot oil and bacon had rained down on the Soldier when May had struck him in the head, some of the droplets burning the skin on Peter's arms as well. The Soldier was still bent over him, the low grunts of pain the first sounds he had made since he had set foot in the apartment.

The gun that had fallen out of the man's hand was lying on the ground right in front of Peter. Without thinking, he grabbed it and propelled it away, aiming for the same hole in the window the first one had broken through. Peter pushed himself away from the man in front of him fast enough that when he reached for Peter, the guy only grabbed at air. He kicked him in the face, back still against the floor. The crunching sound and the blood gushing from the man's nose gave Peter hope. Another loud clang rang through the apartment as May swung the pan once again, this time missing the man's face, hitting his shoulder instead. With a low grunt, the soldier turned. His hand closed around May's neck faster than Peter could change directions.

"No!" He could do nothing but watch as his aunt was thrown against the wall behind her. Motionless, she hit the ground with a low thump.

Panic surged through Peter. He jumped on the Soldier's back before he really knew what he was doing. His punches hit the man in the face fast and strong, targeting the skin burned by the hot oil. He could do it. He could stop the Soldier. He would not let him get away with this, not again. Blind rage gave him strength, yes. But it also made him sloppy. The Soldier's nose might have been bleeding, he might have grunted painfully under Peter's assault, but when the man's hand squeezed Peter's arm in the very same spot where he had shot him just minutes before, pain struck Peter so deeply, he might have even lost consciousness for a split second. Long enough at least that his passiveness allowed the Soldier to get a hold of both his wrists.

His feet had left the ground and that pillar in their living room was pressed against his back. One hand around both of Peter's wrists, the Soldier held him tightly pressed against the solid surface. His other hand was around Peter's throat. Not even the metal hand, that one was holding his wrists with a painful right grip pressed against the pillar. No, Peter could feel the warm skin of the man's human hand on his throat as he increased the pressure, cut off Peter's airway. He wanted to cough, to draw breath but he was frozen in place. He kicked his legs, braced them against the soldier. He couldn't move the man, only pressed himself tighter against the pillar. With every second his body was without oxygen, his strength weakened. He tried to make the guy move or lose his balance, something... but he wouldn't budge. Peter's vision was starting to black out around the edges, colorful dots dancing in front of his eyes.

No... no, he couldn't. He couldn't let this happen. The Soldier would not stop with him. May was lying on the ground behind the man. She wasn't moving at all. He wouldn't stop with Peter. He'd kill her as well if he hadn't already. If she wasn't already—

There was another crash and Peter twitched then groaned as he hit the ground hard. His legs hadn't been under him, he had just slumped to the ground. His throat hurt, burned like hell. His lungs were trying so hard to pull in oxygen and he coughed and coughed, trying desperately to get some air. Every cell in his body screamed with pain. But while he was still perched on the floor, the fight wasn't over. Things were crashing, two men rolling and jumping around the living room, one throwing the other into his aunt's vitrine, glass shattering everywhere.

As his vision came back to him, Peter finally realized who had pulled the Solider off of him. Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers was in Peter's living room, punching his fist into his best friend's face. The Soldier was ruthless. He certainly didn't hold back his punches against the Captain either. Peter's legs were like jello, his hands shook. Just behind the two men fighting, his eyes fell on his aunt still lying on the floor. Still not moving. Peter scrambled to his knees. As fast as he could, he crawled towards her, ducking low to stay out of the two Super Soldiers' eye lines.

He was hyperventilating, his lungs burning like fire with every breath he took. He couldn't see her face, just picked her up underneath her arms and dragged her around the corner into the kitchen, away from the two Super Soldiers. He pulled her close, cradling her upper body on his lap as he kneeled beside her.

"May?" His voice was rough, almost gone and his throat hurt with every word. There was blood on her and he didn't know if it was hers or his own. "May? Please... please, wake up. Please, May, please."

He shook her shoulders, desperate for her to move, then another loud crash made him instinctively cover her body with his own. He looked up and Barnes was looming over them just outside the doorway. He didn't say anything, he didn't even seem to have any facial expression just stared at Peter. To his shame, Peter couldn't do a single thing about it. Couldn't move, frozen. He was kneeling there on the ground, just pulled May a little tighter, shaking with... with fear. He was... Barnes was going to kill them. He was—

The soldier was pulled back away from him again. Peter still cowered on the floor, May still in his arms. He didn't know how long he stared at her. Glass shattered in the living room. It pulled him out of his frozen panic. Shaky hands checked for a pulse and once he felt her blood still rushing underneath his fingers, his nerves calmed enough for his brain to regain basic functionality. Right away he could hear the air still rushing in and out of her lungs as well.

"May?"

Her eyes seemed to move underneath the lids but she didn't open them. She was still alive, still there with him. Fear struck him at the thought of what would happen if the Winter Soldier returned. His body was buzzing with pain. If Rogers didn't manage to overthrow him, Peter would not get out of there alive. Neither would May.

Carefully, he stretched her out on the floor, body tilted to the side, head pulled back a little bit to keep her airway open. He would be back. He would be back when she wasn't in danger anymore.

Just as he was ready to turn and engage, the quiet in the apartment struck him. There were no sounds that indicated a fight coming from the living room any more. Quietly, slowly. he peeked around the corner. The window Peter had shattered with the gun, was entirely gone and with it some parts of the wall surround it. He ran across the room, looked down into the ally. The two men were fighting, exchanging punches, kicks and more. The Soldier was just about to push Rogers out into the street. Into the street where civilians were just going about their day, about to be in the way of two Super Soldiers that weren't pulling their punches.

He hung onto the edge of the broken wall with his right hand, his left arm too shaky for him to trust. His feet were braced against the exterior wall. He could simply slide down, breaking the speed with his hand. It wouldn't be comfortable but it would work. He flinched as the Captain was thrown back, the back of his head hitting the concrete. He was almost out of time. He would never be able to overpower the Winter Soldier on his own, not without his suit, not with his arm so useless.

"Don't! Stop!" He froze and so had the Widow standing among the remains of the apartment's front door. "Get the fuck back inside!"

He blinked once, then checked the alleyway below and found both men gone.

"Peter, you—" Her eyes widened, her face drained of the little color it had. "You're... you're bleeding! Get the fuck inside!"

He was so sick of it, these people thinking they could tell him what to do. Treating him like a little boy when he was stronger than they would ever be. When he could do things they would never be able to. When he could stop things, bad things when they were overpowered. Stop people from getting away with murder.

"My... May. May's hurt."

Her eyes widened even further as he slid out of view down into the ally.

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_[author's note:_

_Thank you guys for reading and all the lovely comments! I absolutely enjoyed your reactions as the pace picks up a bit again. _

_I promise, I won't let you wait too long for the next chapter.]_


	55. Time To Take a Shot - Chapter 55

**Chapter 55 - Time To Take a Shot**

His breathing echoed in his own ears, fast and shallow. The world around him seemed so detached.

"Peter." It was like the man was speaking through a think mist, his voice somewhat muffled to Peter's ears. "Drop the gun, Peter. Come on, it's over."

His hands were numb as he looked up at what truly turned out to be Hawkeye. He hadn't imagined it then. No, that face, that scowl, eyebrows knotted closely together. It was him. The man was only a few steps away.

"Peter. Drop the gun. Please"

The gun. Peter's eyes shot back to his trembling hand that held the gun still pointed at where the Soldier had fallen. His mouth was dry, panting, and now that he saw the weapon in his hand, his arm was getting heavy. It was so quiet around them. Or maybe that was just his shock, shutting out all the noise.

He had shot someone. The vibrations of the recoil still seemed to be vibrating in his very bones. He had tried to be faster, to get there before the Soldier would overpower Rogers.

He had to stop the man. The assassin. If... if he didn't... if he managed to kill Rogers then Peter might die. Like Mr. Stark's parents. His... his own...

Deep breaths. His brain was spiraling. He had no other choice. When he had rounded the corner of the alley, he found them in the middle of the street, Barnes on top of Rogers. Captain America pinned to the floor by his friend. There was blood on the asphalt were Rogers' head lay. His arms that had first hit so strongly were so much less effective now. They only swatted at the Soldier's body, his legs twisting underneath him not finding purchase on the street, unable to get out from under. He was losing.

Peter had screamed at them, desperate to get the Soldier's attention on himself, to provide the Captain with a window of opportunity, but he couldn't push himself to do more than that, not at first. Had been frozen in fear, the Soldier's hands around the Captain's throat were lodged so tightly, not just his metal hand, his human hand as well. The same hand that had held Peter up by his throat, had almost choked the life out of him only minutes earlier. The same hand that had strangled Maria Stark as well.

As Rogers' attempts to free himself got weaker and weaker, his legs stopping to move altogether, Peter forced himself out of his fear. He couldn't stand by and watch it happen. Being able to do the things that he could, when you didn't and then the bad things would happen... If he did nothing this would be on him.

Shaky legs made him advance. He put both his hands on the man, first pulling at his shirt to get him off balance, which did nothing but make the fabric tear. He could just about dodge the Soldier's elbow that was aimed at his stomach, then again at his face. Glimpses of the Captain only heightened Peter's anxiety. The man's eyes were unfocused, hands clawing at the Soldier's around his neck. Peter reached around him, put his own hands on the Soldier's arms, trying to pull but his left arm was useless. He scrambled back as one of the Soldier's hands left Roger's throat and swung a punch at Peter instead. It only hit his shoulder but hard enough for him to fall back. As he skidded across the hard asphalt, just for a moment he stayed down, trying to collect himself. He had no mask. They were out in the open. With only one of his arms working there was no way he could overpower him. There was no way he could stop this.

Despair was weighing him down, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood on his arm. From where the Soldier had shot—

He scrambled to his feet and limped towards the alley where he had made an exit from his apartment. Desperately he sifted through the debris that had fallen out of his apartment along with the Super Soldiers until he found it.

A shaking hand around the gun, Peter stepped back out onto the street, the Soldier's own weapon in hand that he had flung from the apartment. He didn't know what to aim for, didn't know how to do this. His finger curled around the trigger, aiming the barrel up in the air. His arm vibrated from the recoil. He had hoped the sound would startle the Soldier, but someone like him didn't distract so easily. If anything his hands closed around the Captain's throat a little tighter. It was no good. A split second later, his arm still shaking from the first shot, he pulled the trigger again.

He had just stood there, unsure if one bullet was enough, if they were safe now as he had watched the Soldier slump forward, blood oozing out from underneath his right shoulder blade.

He had shot someone. In the back.

His ears were ringing from the pang of the gun, everything else felt numb. He was in shock, right? He just shot someone, surely—

His arm shot back up again, gun at the ready. Barnes had just turned around. No. No, he hadn't turned. It was the Captain trapped underneath him that had rolled his friend off his chest, was now leaning over him. With some effort, he rolled the Soldier over so he came to lie on his front again, then pressed something against his back. A piece of cloth, or something. Rogers was coughing, wheezing, his whole body shaking. Barton made for them, kneeled down on the other side of Barnes.

"We need to go, Cap. We need to go right now."

Barton wasn't speaking too loudly. Still, Peter could hear him. Maybe he wasn't in shock after all. Maybe his senses were just fine.

The Captain's face was bloody, his clothes torn. He wasn't even in his usual uniform, just jeans and a shirt that was now ripped and bloody.

"Where... where the... the hell were you? What... what—"

He spotted Peter from a distance. A quick glance exchanged with Barton and the archer's hands took over, pressed tightly onto the Soldier's bullet wound.

"Peter." He coughed deeply, his lungs lunging at the chance for oxygen. He was shaky on his legs, not unlike Peter, took a couple of steps then stopped when Peter tightened the hold of the gun.

Fear shot through him. He couldn't think of anything other than how he had just shot Captain America's best friend. He had just shot the man that had stood between Rogers and Mr. Stark. The one Rogers had so fiercely protected that Mr. Stark had almost paid for it with his own life.

"Stay... stay away from me, you—" His voice was thin, his throat hurt like hell. The dull throbbing in his arm was easier to ignore. He did have to be in shock then. His arm should be killing him even as it just hung beside him, blood slowly dropping onto the street below.

Rogers had both his hands up in the air, his stare only on Peter.

"It's... it's gonna be a'right, son."

"Don't!"

Rogers inclined his head, lips pressed into a thin line. His voice didn't sound much better than Peter's and with his head a little tilted, the marks on his neck stood out bright red. The Captain's eyes flickered to his left, then to his right. There were people around them. Peter only realized that now. People, phones in their hands, recording.

"I... He just came into the apartment. He... he attacked me and then May, I... I only... he was... he was choking me."

"I know." Rogers nodded. He could hear the sirens in the distance, too. Peter could see it in his eyes. Big blue eyes, pleading with him. "Just... just put down the gun. He's... He's not gonna... not gonna hurt you... not anymore."

Peter bit his lip hard. His knees were starting to shake as well. Or maybe... maybe they had been this whole time and he just realized it now. He didn't move though, kept the gun pointed right to the Captain's chest. The recording from that Siberian bunker flashed in front of his eyes. Rogers' shield as it hit the faceplate first, then the arc.

"'m not gonna hurt you, either. I... I would never hurt you, Peter."

"Shut up!" Peter pulled his left hand up to the gun as well, anything to stop his arm from shaking, but he couldn't hold it there. Pain pulled all the way up to his left shoulder now. "Is he... Is he dead?"

"No."

"He's..." Peter tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but every movement started to hurt more and more. "He's bleeding a lot."

"So are you, kid."

"Don't... don't call me that!"

"We need... need t' go now, Peter. Drop the gun an'... and come with us."

His eyes widened. "N—no!"

The police were getting closer. His pulse was racing, not slowing down in the slightest. He had shot someone. Maybe killed someone. What would they do with him?

"Someone who... who loves you very much as—asked me t' ge' you somewhere safe. You know, who... who I'm talking about, right?"

Peter shook his hand. That wasn't possible. "No... no, you're lying."

"I swear, I'm no'. I... I gave him m' words that you would be okay. That I wouldn't—"

"Yo—your word means nothing... nothing to me! Not to.. to me, not to him, it means nothing!"

Rogers didn't flinch, he just stood there, head held high like he had never betrayed Mr. Stark. Like he wasn't protecting a criminal. A murderer.

When he spoke again, his voice was low, too low to carry. "Peter, you can't stay here. W—we need to leave right... right now. You know wha' they do t' people that are... are different. We need t' go."

His arm was getting so heavy but he couldn't... he couldn't let them get away with it. Barnes might have killed May. They never took responsibility for anything, did they? He couldn't do that. He wasn't like them. He wouldn't run. Couldn't. Not with his knees shaking like they were anyway.

"Cap..." Barton was still kneeling next to the Soldier, blood seeping out between his fingers, where he pressed that piece of cloth onto the Barnes' wound. "If we don't go now, the cops will—."

"We can't... can't leave him." Rogers' eyes didn't stray from Peter. "Take Bucky an... and go. I'll stay with him."

"I... Steve, I can't carry him, I can't— Fuck." Sirens were coming closer. They were almost there.

His body twitched, Peter's senses flaring. He looked to the right, saw her slowly approaching. For just a moment, he almost pointed the weapon at her instead, but then kept it on Rogers.

"Peter." She walked right into the path of the gun, put herself between him and Rogers. "We need to leave. Right now."

"Nat, ge' out of here. It's fine." Rogers stepped up behind her, got so close, Peter had to retreat a few steps. "You know wha' to do."

"It _is_ fine because Peter's gonna come with us." The Widow's eyes were wide. "Come on now."

"No!" Peter shook his head, not sure where to look anymore. "Stay away from me!"

"There are cameras on us from I don't know how many angles." Rogers' voice was hardly louder than a whisper. "It was self-defense."

"New York is not a 'Stand Your Ground' state." The Widow shook her hand. "They'll use him and if they find out—"

"Defense of a third person then. He'll be fine. I'll... I'll make sure of it." The man blew out a deep slow breath, like he was fighting pain which, well, maybe he was. "Nat, you're no use t' us in the Raft."

"And you are?" She turned on him, face set.

Rogers shook his head. "Look around you. It's too late. Go!"

"Fuck." She turned back to Peter one last time. Her voice was low, too low to echo in the street. She spoke just to Peter. "He'll kill us if they get their hands on you. I'm here for him. I told you, didn't I? That I'm here to protect you for him!"

"Well, where... where were you when... when his best friend tried t—to kill me then?" His voice was shrill and thin. "He... he shot at May, too, she... I don't even... I don't even know—" The sob bubbled out of his throat and he couldn't do anything about it.

She looked like she was about to drag him out of the street by force. But maybe she suddenly remembered that he was stronger than she would ever be. Maybe she was just not going to risk her own neck by staying a moment longer as the police cars were now close enough for even her to see.

With a strong curse, she turned away, motioned for Barton to follow her and both assassins ducked into separate alleyways.

"When they get here, you... you need to cooperate, Peter. You hear me? Just do wha... what they say. You can't..." His voice dropped even lower. "You know you can't resist. No' if you want a chance at them not knowing."

"I..." They would arrest him. Peter's heart raced painfully fast.

"You'll be fine. He'll come for you."

"No." Peter shook his head, between his fear, the pain in his neck, and his tears threatening to spill over it was difficult to say anything, even whispered. "He's... he's gone. He's gone."

"He's on his... his way right now. He will get you out, just don't—" Rogers swallowed hard. "If they find out, they'll use you against him."

"Wha—"

"Shh." Rogers shook his head. "Quiet now."

Within moments, they were swarmed. Five cars had pulled up simultaneously, officers closing a circle around them.

"Drop the gun, boy! Hands behind your head!"

He did drop it like a sudden electric pulse had shot through it. His hands flew up behind his head. Well, well one of them. The other... the other didn't cooperate as much.

"Behind your head I said!" There were at least six of them on him, even more that pointed their weapons at Rogers.

"I... I can't, I—" He was crying now. He hadn't realized until he started talking. His voice shook so strongly.

"BEHIND YOUR HEAD!"

"He can't!" Rogers both of his own hands high in the air stepped even closer to Peter, almost growling at them.

The sound of a shot rang among the buildings and Peter twitched, curling forward around himself. When he looked up, Rogers still stood tall, unmoving. His face balled up with pain and anger, but he still stood tall, the electrodes of the tazer still stuck to his arm.

The cops were frozen in silent shock, but not for long.

"On... on the ground! Get on the ground now!"

Rogers held eye contact with Peter throughout, was always a tiny move ahead of him getting to his knees first, almost guiding him. As Peter's hands hit the ground the police charged forward. He had hands on him, pressing his face against the warm asphalt.

"Hey! He's just a kid! What the— urgh." Rogers grunted.

"Shut the fuck up, traitor."

They pulled Peter's arms back, cuffed him so tightly the metal was cutting into the bruises the Soldier had left on his skin.

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**#**

* * *

The rush of the wind around him was completely drowned out by the beat of his heart. His pulse was so high it had triggered FRIDAY's health protocol and he had to override his own code to make her hide the red flashing number from the suit's head-up display. He knew his heart was racing faster than was healthy for him, thank you very much. He could see the city in the distance. He couldn't fly as fast anymore, not at the low altitude he had to hold to make his descend into town. Just a few more minutes. He'd be in Queens in just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes.

**_"Sir, social media activity is spiking around New York City. Increased mentions of the Rogues and Captain America."_**

"Fuck." He had to remember to breathe. If he didn't breathe that big brain of his was even less useless than it had been recently. "Show me what—"

**_"Sir, incoming call from Miss Romanoff."_**

"Answer!"

"Tony, you need to stay away." Her voice was so low, he could just about make out the words.

"Are you fucking kidding me? No way. _No_. Way! Please tell me Barnes isn't there? Have you seen the kid? Is he alright? He's alright, right?" His eyes were stinging with unshed tears. He should have never fucking left the city.

"We... We got there just in time, but not soon enough."

"No, I... Oh, god, what—" This was all on him.

"Authorities have the kid in lock up. They have Steve and Barnes. May Parker, too." She paused. She paused like all that wasn't the worst of it and Tony already felt like fainting. "Listen, they ran the boy's prints, Tony. They know it's Aiden."

There is was. His stomach seemed to drop the remaining 15,000 feet.

"They—they... no. That's... No, why would they run his prints! They can't just—"

"He shot Barnes. They—"

"He WHAT?"

"Listen, they took him to the precinct, then straight to the hospital. I'm there right now. You can't show up here. If they find out you know, they'll dig. They might find out about everything and you'll go to jail. Or worse the Raft for violating the Accords. His secret, Siberia, everything can come out if we make a mistake."

His heart was about to jump out of his chest. "I don't give a fuck if they lock me—"

"Tony, you can't help him, if you're in prison."

The New York Skyline was rising up in front of him. He had to see his kid. He had to be there.

She gave a gentle huff on the other end of the line. "I promise, if things go south I'll get the boy to you and you can head for the border or I don't know where. Just trust me, Tony."

"He's just a kid, Nat. I can't do nothing. I can't leave him alone again."

"He's not alone. I will hang up now. I will try and talk to him. We'll figure this out. Do not show your face here before the detectives call you. They will."

Panic. Panic was surging through his veins and he had no idea who to reign it in. "They can't check his DNA, Nat. If they check for it, they'll know... they'll figure out everything."

"I know. You want something to do, get to the Compound and try to think of how we get around the DNA. Clint will meet you there. I can stall them for a while. They can't go to May Parker for permission to get a sample. We can stall, but we'll need a way to work this somehow."

She hung up before he could answer. His mind was racing. The kid... he shot Barnes? That... was the guy dead? Did he—

"FRIDAY, to the Compound. Call Pepper."

He leaned into the direction change of the suit. The dial tone had barely rung for a second time when Pepper picked up.

"Tony, are you there? Is he okay?"

"Romanoff told me to stay away. I've changed course to the Compound."

"The Compound? But—"

"She told me he shot Barnes."

She sounded almost breathless. "It's all over the internet, Tony. Barnes and Rogers fighting in the street. Barnes was... was choking him, almost... almost killed him. Then Addy—Peter... he turned up, tried to pull him off first and then when he couldn't, he ran off and came back with a gun and... and shot Barnes."

"He... he shot him? He... The kid didn't manage to pull Barnes off?" Panic. More of it. "But... but he should—"

"He... Tony, he..." Her voice shook. "His arm. There was blood everywhere, he... Oh god, it was awful."

Tony felt the moisture roll from his eyes. "Fuck. They. Shit." He was hurt. Badly. None of them would know how to take that pain away. He would suffer and they couldn't because if they found out about his mutation... "They took his prints. They know, Pep. They know it's Aiden."

The line stayed quiet. He could see Pepper right in front of him, head buried in her hands, fighting to keep it together like only she could.

"Pep, I need you. What do I do?"

She let out a deep breath, her voice husky. "Do we... do we know how much they know?"

"They don't know about his secret. They will if they try to confirm the prints with a DNA test. They need consent for that, right? Peter's or, or someone's. They can't just—"

"They'll get a court order. Then it doesn't matter if he refuses. They'll just do it."

Tony bit the inside of his cheeks. New York City was flying by underneath him. Somewhere down there his son was stuck, alone at the mercy of the very people that had tried to catch him for months. He could only hope that they didn't know more already.

Pepper's breathing was labored. She was fighting to keep her composure, to be strong, he could tell. "We can't bribe the lab. We could try but I don't think that can be contained."

There had to be something. Tony blew out a deep breath. "What if I hack the results and just change them."

"Then there's still a lab employee who knows that his DNA has mutant genes. He might talk and they'll just run it again."

"Well, fuck that dude, we could just—"

"If you're about to suggest we could 'just kill him' I'll have a mental breakdown. Completely, no holding back."

Tony closed his eyes and bit his lip harder.

Pepper's efforts to keep calm, long deep breaths kept him somewhat sane. "What about May Parker?"

"In the hospital." Tony shook his head. Not his concern. "What if we swap out the sample?"

"With what?"

He wished he could rub a hand over his face, get rid of some of his frustration and the sticky feeling of tears drying on his skin. "I don't know. I could... I could talk to Helen. Maybe... maybe we can get something synthetic that matches the DNA on file. Nat already weaseled her way into the hospital."

"Yes, try that."

"FRIDAY, tell Helen Cho I need her asap. ASAP as in the world's coming to an end and nothing else matters more than her meeting me in the lab."

**_"Right away, Boss."_**

"I'm less than 5 minutes out from the Compound. I'll talk to Cho, then message Natasha."

"It's still more than two hours till I get to New York, Tony."

He nodded, then remembered that she couldn't see him. "Okay."

"I love you, Tony. We'll figure this out. We'll keep him safe."

"I... yeah. Yeah, we just... we just have to."

She didn't hang up and Tony couldn't bring himself to disconnect the call either.

"Do you want me to stay on the line?"

He could almost spot the Compound in the distance. He needed her here. They should have never fucking left. He was such an idiot.

"Just for a minute," he almost whispered, just loud enough for her to hear him over the suit's flight noises.

She told him again, that she loved him. That they would figure this out. That if anyone could figure this out it was them. The universe owed them. After everything, the universe just fucking owed them a win. They would keep his son safe. They would turn this whole shit show around.

Tony sighed. "I love you too, Pep."

"Keep me in the loop."

"I will." He hung up the call as FRIDAY guided the suit into the landing shoot to his lab.

"Sir, Doctor Cho is on her way to the lab."

Tony cracked his neck. Finally out of the suit he rubbed both hands over his face, getting rid of all the obvious traces his emotional state had left on his face.

He rushed through the door into the hallway, on the lookout for Helen Cho. She just came around the corner then. "Tony, what's wrong?"

"It's the Spiderling. I need your help and fast."

Just a few steps behind her, Barton followed. Tony's anxiety spiked not just with the spy back at the Compound in general. "What the fuck happened, Barton?"

The man's face was tense, even for his standards. "What the fuck didn't happen?"

"Don't fucking test me, Barton! I'm dying to punch someone in the face and I wouldn't pass on you."

"Fuck you, Tony," he spat out, his voice soaked in vitriol. "Where the fuck have you been? Why the fuck did you leave your son behind? What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Tony's whole body was pulsing with anger and frustration. "Fucking asshole, you left your whole fucking family behind to help Rogers cover for a fucking murderer! You think you can lecture me on responsibility!"

His hands were grabbing fist-fulls of Barton's shirt. He didn't even remember advancing and reaching for the man. Barton pushed him away, then swung for him, his rage making him miss.

"Stop! What the— Stop, both of you!" Maria Hill had pushed herself between the two men. "What the fuck!"

"Tony!" Helen Cho had retreated, her back pressed against the wall of the hallway. "You said... you said you needed my help. For the boy."

Shame rolled over him like an ice-cold shower. There he was, fist-fighting when his kid needed him.

Agent Hill looked back and forth between them. "Alright, you two go ahead then. Clint." She swallowed hard. "You and me, we will go that way..." She indicated the other direction. "...and talk about what the fuck is going on."

Tony turned, eyes wide and set on Barton. People at the Compound didn't know yet. Not about Spider-Man. Minus Helen and two of her people. Definitely not about his son.

Resignation made the archer's face smoothen. "You know I hate passing up on a friendly catch-up, Maria. I'm kind of needed in that lab though."

Lips pressed tightly onto each other, Agent Hill looked back and forth between them. "That was an order, agent, not a friendly request."

"Former agent." Barton shrugged.

"You kind of lost that loophole when you came out of retirement to help create a shitload of paperwork and headaches for us, Clint."

"Maria, I..." Tony gave his lip one hard bite. For Peter. For Addy, he needed Barton to make this right. "I need him in the lab. Few hours I guess and then a friendly chat can be—"

"What the fuck is going on here?" She looked back and forth between them, her patience wearing thin.

"It's..." It was all gonna come out now anyway. If the NYPD knew, then... well, they knew some things. Not everything. Not yet. "It's about my son, Maria."

Agent Hill's jaw dropped. Helen Cho didn't fare much better. "Oh... oh, god, he—" Helen clapped a hand over her mouth. Her face so plainly showed how all the pieces were falling into place for her.

"Your... your son?" Hill shook her head to grasp what he was saying. "I... what?"

"It's... it's a long story. All you need to know right now is that Barnes went after him. HYDRA was hired to kill him, but, well." Tony blew out a deep breath. "Anyway, the police has him now and I need to get him out. I need to get him out right away. Clarke, if he—"

She stopped him with a quick wave of her hand. "What do you need?"

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_[author's note: Alright, guys. A super-fast update, because in some parts of the world it's still my birthday and I'm rewarding myself with not "having" to wait to put this one out._

_I'm afraid, the cliffhangers won't get much better any time soon and I wish I could say I was sorry about that, but I love them ;)_

_Thanks as always for reading, the lovely comments and thoughts on the chapter as well as the favs and subscriptions!]_


	56. Separation of Powers - Chapter 56

**Chapter 56 - Separation of Powers**

The lab was quiet. A few of the machines he had set up were buzzing, but it was a monotone sound, easily ignored. The voices in his head screamed louder than that. Regrets and guilt, above all fear. Uncertainty.

He had caught up Helen Cho and Maria Hill on _some _of the details of what was going on. Possibly Barton as well, who might have been somewhat hazy on a few details. His kidnapped son. That he had found him only to realize how he had been on the target list of the Winter Soldier. How Obadiah Stane's betrayal had run so much deeper than Tony had realized. No mention of the boy's abilities though. Too many people were already in the loop on that. He would have to keep it from whoever he reasonably could and Maria Hill with her ties to Fury was petty high up on that list.

When she had left while on the phone to Pepper to help out with whatever ties the had to get some legal leverage, Tony had laid open his plan to Doctor Cho and Barton. They had to outflank the authorities on any DNA testing they would order to confirm the boy's true identity.

"It's definitely possible." Helen had sat down, running both hands across her face. "I just have to think about what I have to work off of. It'll be a matter of whether we'll be fast enough. But yeah, if I synthesize a neutral carrier and then work off from the data we have on file— No. Actually. If I work back from the boy's current DNA structure..." She bit her lip, nodding to herself. "Yeah, it can't be identical. DNA changes over time are the norm, just not as drastic as what your boy experienced."

Tony nodded along, a tiny spark of hope flickering in his heart. "What can I do? How do I help?"

She'd given him his task and he had set up everything in his lab, staring at the machines as they worked. Helpless to do anything but wait for the process to run its course.

_ **"Boss, Agent Barton is asking to access the lab."** _

Tony froze, then gave a sharp nod. The doors buzzed open and Barton's heavy steps drowned out the low purr of the centrifuge on the workbench that Tony's eyes were still fixed on. Silence fell once more when Barton came to a hold. A swift glance up confirmed that the man had planted himself on the other side of the table, hands buried deep in his pockets. His gaze was lingering somewhere between the ground and the top on the table.

"So, Downtown Hospital is confirmed. All of them."

Tony frowned. "Rogers as well?"

"Seems that way. I guess they'll check him out, then transfer him to headquarters. It's only two blocks."

"Right."

Tony had watched the video, had forced himself to. He'd never get those images out of his head. The blood dripping of the kid, the way he shook. He had tried to enhance the audio to hear what they had said but could only extract a few sentences, mostly Peter's side of the conversation. While he was dying to know as much as he could so he could prepare, those videos were public and if FRIDAY couldn't do it at least the press wouldn't be able to pick up on anything in that conversation that could prove dangerous to the kid either.

"Listen, man, I didn't mean..." Barton slowly blew out a breath. "Earlier. I was an ass. I'm sorry."

"Right, I..." Tony nodded. "Me too."

"I tried to stop him. The boy, but he... it was like he didn't even hear me."

"Yeah, I... I saw the recording. I know you tried." The video had shown Barton arrive just as Peter had collected that gun. The boy had moved in almost a trance-like state, single minded determination that seemed blind to everything else. It had to be about his senses. They must have acted up. He'd only ever seen Peter equally out of it during one of his episodes. The way the muscles in his arm were shaking as he held that gun. "Where did he even get that gun?" His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"I... I don't know, man. I guess, maybe Barnes brought it? He... The boy. That seemed like a pretty deep graze on his arm. Might have wrestled the gun away from Barnes earlier."

"What—" Tony closed his eyes, trying to reign in his desperation. It hadn't necessarily been the Rogues' job to come to his son's aid, but then Barnes... the free-range that had allowed Barnes to go on that rampage was on them. "Why didn't you get there sooner, I don't—"

He cut himself off. He couldn't afford to get into another fight. Not now.

"Listen, I tried. It... it was the Quinjet. Couldn't let it hover unmanned because the short-range GPS got fucked up a couple weeks back so I had to find a spot at the East river to land and—" Barton cleared his throat. "We tried to be fast and honestly, I... I thought they'd have him. Between Steve and Nat, I didn't think..."

Tony turned away, pacing a couple of steps back and forth. "It doesn't matter now. It... I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't— I... I know you tried. I... I am grateful for that."

The rest was on him. He should have listened to Pepper. Should have taken a couple of days to let the dust settle before he made any drastic decisions but he had just been so scared for his boy and now... now all the things he had been afraid of were happening all at once.

"Tony, you did the best you could with the information you had. Barnes, Stane, all that. You couldn't have known."

He huffed out a dry laugh. "Is that the little line you tell yourself when you wonder if your youngest still remembers what you look like?"

He couldn't help himself, just had to lash out. His patience was so thin, his nerves an agonizing roller coaster.

"No, actually recently I tell myself that I made big ass mistake. I tell myself that I was stupid and reckless and should have looked into why the fuck I did what I did a lot harder. That I should have looked more closely at the information that was out there. At why Steve really took that turn and maybe I wouldn't have had let my family down."

Tony had his back turned. "I guess I deserved that one."

Barton was right. He should have taken a moment to think, taken a moment to figure out why all of the things that had happened to his boy, to him, what the common denominator was.

"Dude, come on..." The man blew out a frustrated breath. "I wasn't talking about you. The Accords, Barnes, all that was readily available for me to look at, but I just didn't. I just trusted that Cap was right, because, well I mean, it's Cap! But to blame yourself that you didn't see the secret plot a dead man was hedging against you, that's not the same."

"It doesn't matter. I left. I ran when I should have fought for him."

"You can still do that now. You still need to do that now, Tony. This isn't over."

* * *

#

* * *

Peter's head was throbbing. The skin around his neck was so agitated, it prickled and ached. He opened his eyes to the cold bright light of the hospital room they had put him in. What had happened in the last few hours was a bit of a blur. He remembered the Soldier. His warm hand around Peter's throat, squeezing in shut. Peter swallowed hard and winced. His whole neck hurt like hell, inside and out. He also remembered that he had gone after the man, had shot him.

The cops had come and arrested him. Rogers along with him. There was some commotion while they were at the precinct. He had heard people yelling and slamming doors, then hushed voices, but his brain was too foggy either to recall or to have picked up what they had been whispering in the first place. He must have drifted in and out of consciousness because he couldn't remember who had cuffed him to the hospital bed he was in, but someone obviously had. His left upper arm was on fire. The weird angle his arms were tied in made it almost impossible for his muscles to relax and letting his arm drop only strained his torn skin even more.

His eyes shot up to the stone-faced officer who stood by the door. Even like this, Peter should be able to take him. Even with his head swimming with fog and every breath causing a jab of pain to shoot down his chest. The cuffs were just regular flimsy police grade. As much as they did chaff, tight enough to rub his skin raw where the Winter Soldier had left them bruised and battered, he'd still snap those without much effort. There was a window to his left. It didn't have a handle and probably wasn't designed to open but that shouldn't be a problem. It was unlikely that those were reinforced so heavily that Peter would be stuck. Maybe if he asked the guy for some water he'd—

The door opened and closed behind a nurse carrying a tray with food and some medical equipment. Peter looked down at his lap. He wouldn't even be able to eat on his own. She'd have to feed him. His face heated up and he closed his eyes, desperate not to let his shame show. They would lock him away and he would deserve every minute of it. He had shot someone. He was supposed to help people and now he—

"Please leave. I have to apply bandages," The nurse's voice was a bit ruffed up by a notable Russian accent. The plates and supplies cluttered as she set the tray down on the table next to Peter's bed.

The guy looked her up and down, one eyebrow raised. "He already had his arm bandaged."

"This is for neck."

Peter could practically feel the man's cold stare turn onto him. As if his neck knew that it was talked about, another painful wave of pricking sensation bubbled off it.

"He's under arrest." The cop stood there, unmoving.

"He is cuffed to bed. He is not leaving."

"That's not your call, lady."

Peter looked up at that. The nurse had her back turned, arms akimbo, long blond hair moving as she gave her head a frustrated shake. "Yes, it is. He's minor. And he has rights. This is hospital, no police station!"

The officer shot a sharp look at Peter and Peter managed to lower his head again just in time.

The nurse spoke up again. "I warn you, if I have to get superior to sort this—"

"Fine!" The officer grunted. "Hey, you!" Peter looked up, the cop's finger squarely pointing at him. "Don't think you deserve any special treatment, boy. I'm right outside the door!"

Peter swallowed deeply and winced from the pain it shot through his neck and torso.

"Oh, give me a break," the cop snarled in disgust. "You had your pain meds."

He opened the door and closed it with a loud bang behind himself. Peter couldn't stop the tears that fell from his lashes. He tried to wipe them off on his shoulder but that movement just caused another shot of pain.

"Hey, kid, take it easy now." Her hands were on him steadying him. Her voice was low and distinctly lacking the Russian undertone.

He could have sworn that he recognized that face but, no, it couldn't be.

"You with me, Peter?"

He blinked up at her. "Wh—what—"

"Shh, just listen." Natasha Romanoff's words were whispered so low, even he could hardly make them out. The long blonde wig she was wearing, the wide-rimmed glasses, it morphed her face into a completely different person. "You hear me?"

He gave little nods with his head, just small enough that it didn't hurt too much. "Yeah," he breathed out quietly.

"They ran your prints. They know about your father." His eyes widened, focused only on her but she pressed a finger to her lips, her eyes warning him to stay quiet. "They don't know your secret. When they come here for a DNA test, you will refuse. Vehemently. Don't cooperate."

He blinked at her again, speechless and scared.

"Tony's at the Compound. They are working on something. No trying to break free, okay? Not yet." She had him fixed with her eyes. The intensity of her voice made his skin twitch and tickle all over like a rush of cold wind blowing over every inch of his body.

"Mr... Mr. Stark?" he whispered.

"Yes. He'll be here as soon as he can. He can't show his face until they call him or they might figure out how much he knows. You can't let up how well you know him, understood? You're an intern at the Tower. That's it. You're just an intern."

His eyelashes fluttered as he gave a couple of tiny nods once more, fighting more tears.

"Shhh, you'll be alright." She moved the hospital bed's rotary table out of the way and stepped up closer to the bed, her right hand cupped the side of his face, the other his right shoulder. Quickly she crouched down, now right at his eye level. "They won't find out anything else. You'll be safe. Tony will make sure that you're safe no matter what." Her thumb rubbed soft circles onto his temple just the way Mr. Stark had always done. It might have been creepy at any other time but his nerves were so strung out, he couldn't help but lean into that familiar sensation. "I know the pain is bad. I'm so sorry. You'll have to hold out just a little longer. Everything I could give you would make you loopy and we need you alert. You need to fight them on the DNA test, Peter."

As her hand wiped away the tears from his face, he did ask the one thing that lay on his heart like a pile of rocks. "May?"

"She's here, too. Different floor." The Black Widow's face didn't give anything away, so he just had to trust her low whispered words. "Still unconscious, but she'll be alright."

May was close then. They got her out. He sank a bit further into the pillows. "Barnes?"

Her facial expression didn't change on that one either. "He'll live."

So, Peter didn't kill him then. That was... that was good. Right? The guy was in custody and at least Peter wouldn't be tried for murder. Maybe attempted murder? That should be better. He was still shaking. His whole body still trembled but he couldn't do anything to make it stop.

"I... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, I—"

"Shh, it's gonna be alright it—" she blew out a deep breath. "He would have killed Steve. He wouldn't have stopped there."

Her hands were still on him, trying to ease him through the pain. He just wanted to leave, crawl up in a dark corner somewhere and soothe his ringing senses.

"I... I need to leave," he whispered at her as loudly as he dared. "Please, I—"

"You have to stay put just a little bit longer. We'll get you out."

He pressed his eyes shut, anything to calm his body down, but nothing made much of a difference. The bright fluorescent lights of the hospital, the general level of noise that echoed through even the floorboards, the metal of the cuffs on his wrist that felt uncomfortably cold and was a constant agitating stimulus on his skin. He couldn't stay put. He would break and they would know. They could find out any moment and then they might put him in jail or the Raft. The police already hated him. Despised Spider-Man. And now that he'd shot— He should have just stayed behind and helped May. He got involved with the Avengers again, even though Mr. Stark had told him a hundred times that he was supposed to keep his head down and stay off the NYPD's and the authorities' radars. Peter didn't want to find out what they were going to do to him if they found out the truth.

"Please..." he tried again. "I... I can't... They can't know I—"

Her hand grabbed his and for a moment he wanted to flinch away. But she held it tightly and the constant pressure was grounding, almost soothing. "Shhh, they know your name, kid. If we break you out, they'll find out about your secret for sure."

"I can't... can't stay here," he whispered. "It's... it's too much. They'll know. They'll find out and then—" He couldn't hold onto the soft sob overpowering his voice any longer. Tears made his vision swim but her right hand was still on his face, gently holding his head upright.

"I..." the Widow sighed. "Let me just..." She let go of his hand, reached into her pocket and came out with a phone.

She had only just put it up to her ear when she whispered into the receiver in a low but rugged tone.

"I'm with him now. At the hospital. You have a minute, no more. They're right outside."

He hadn't even seen her dial and before he could move a muscle she had her phone pressed against his ear.

"Nat, what's happening?"

As his eyes shot up at her, another set of tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Nat?"

"Mr... Mr. Stark?" Peter whispered.

The other side of the line remained quiet for a moment.

"Kid?"

"Yeah," Peter breathed into the receiver.

"P—Pete, shit. Are you... is... are you— Is everything— just... I'm dealing with it, alright? I'll fix it and then I'll come and get you. Don't you worry."

"I—" Peter hiccuped and pressed his eyes shut for a moment. "I'm sorry, I—I'm so sorry." The widow's other hand had left his face and was now clutching his hand again. She made a few soothing shushing noises but her face was turned towards the door, watching for anyone that might find them like this.

"Buddy, it— shit, I— It'll be alright. Don't... you don't have to say anything, okay. Just listen to Nat. Resist them if they want to take your DNA. Verbally. Don't... try not to break anything you shouldn't be able to. She'll get you out if they manage to force the test on you before we can intervene, alright? You... you'll be alright, I promise."

Peter tried to stifle his sobs. Tried to at least respond with some form of affirmative words, but his vocal cords didn't cooperate.

"I got you, kid. You just gotta trust me, okay? I know I—" The man swallowed audibly. "You'll be alright. I promise everything will be alright."

"Please, hurry. I don't... I can't..."

"I will, buddy. I promise I will get you out of there as fast as possible. We're working on it right now. We're so close."

He nodded despite the pain even as his mind registered that Mr. Stark wouldn't be able to tell.

"Try to calm yourself. You know how. You already know how. You can do that. You're such a clever kid, you'll be alright. I promise, buddy. Nobody... Nobody will—"

He opened his eyes when the phone was pulled away from his ear. When had he even closed them again?

"How much longer, Tony?" The Widow had whispered into the phone. "Alright."

She had both hands on her phone now, typing away. The cuffs rattled on the hospital bed's steel rails as Peter tried to dry off his cheeks on the fabric of his shirt, but crooking his head and pulling up his shoulder was painful.

"Let me help." She said as she pulled a napkin off the tray and carefully wiped down his face. He hated this. He hated all of it. The Widow's hands left him.

"You hungry, boy?" Her accent was back in place, her voice back to normal volume. She moved the bandages and medical stuff to the side then grabbed the table she had placed the tray on and pivoted it over the bed. A bowl full of soup sat smack in the middle of it. Peter just shook his head a little, mindful of the strain on his neck. He had absolutely zero appetite. "Come on." She fixed him with a stare, eyebrows raised. She held up a spoon full of soup up for him to swallow. His eyes prickled and moisture shot back into his eyes. He was being fed like a child. Like the child he was.

Her other hand came to rest on his right arm. "Come on, Peter. Tony is going to kill me if I don't get you to keep your strength up," she whispered again. "We need you level headed and strong to get you out."

He did eat. Every now and again the Black Widow would use the napkin to dry his cheeks. He managed half the bowl then he absolutely refused to eat any more. His stomach was queasy already. She set the tray aside and moved onto the bandages, swiped his neck carefully with antibacterial wipes before she applied some sort of salve.

"This should help with the bruising." Her accent was back in place. "I will wrap it up now so it can heal." She looked up at Peter again and the _without anyone seeing_ part of the sentence was clearly implied.

His neck taken care of, her fingers carefully traced the agitated skin on his wrists. "I'm sorry, kid." He had to strain his ears to hear her. "I can't really do anything about this right now. I... I'll try to think of something that would make them take these off." Her fingers followed the length of his arm, frowning at the abundance of little red dots that were plastered all over both his arms. "Those burns?"

"Hot oil." His voice cracked with every word. "Bacon grease." She looked up at that, eyes wide. "May she... she hit him with a pan."

"Huh." The corners of her mouth twitched like she was actually impressed. Then her eyes found his. "I have to go now." He would have never thought he would ever be as desperate for the Black Widow to remain in the same room as him, as he was just then. He timidly shook his head. The pleading expression he sent her way should have been humiliating but he couldn't care less. Not anymore.

"Don't leave. Please!"

"I have to set up some things for Tony," she whispered under her breath. "We need to—"

The door behind her opened and the cop that was supposed to watch him stepped in, holding the door open for a lady in a pretty expensive-looking suit and another man in uniform. Chief Clarke. Peter's pulse went through the roof. Ms. Romanoff didn't turn but had her eyes fixed to Peter's face at the development of the situation and stepped away from the bed, her back literally against the wall.

"Hello dear," the lady said. She sent him a warm smile that seemed genuine enough. Her eyes flickered to the cuffs on Peter's wrists. "Chief Clarke, are those really necessary?"

"He shot someone on a busy New York street in the middle of the day. It's a reasonable precaution." It wasn't the Chief that spoke up but the officer that had just closed the door and followed behind the pair.

The lady scoffed without so much as a look at the officer. "Chief Clarke, I'm sure you can understand why—"

"You heard the man, Congresswoman. I can't put my men in danger and there is no special treatment here for rich kids. We need to be cautious."

The women's eyes shot a warning glance in the Chief's direction, then pulled her focus back on Peter. She did smile. It wasn't all that outlandish as the situation should have warranted it. No, she looked almost friendly. Not like that did anything for him. He was still at their mercy, cuffed to a hospital bed. It's not like he had gone out looking for trouble. It wasn't his fault that a psycho serial killer had broken into their apartment, was it? Peter made an effort not to look at the Black Widow, to ban those thoughts from his mind lest he act on them.

He didn't know Barnes. He didn't know anything. He was just Peter Parker. Just a random kid from Queens.

The congresswoman stepped closer to his bed, arms tense next to her body.

"Hello there."

Peter's eyebrows shot up at her.

"Erm, Peter, is it?"

He just stared at her. Her smile only grew, an attempt to ease him into the conversation surely.

"I'm Anita Davis. I'm a member of the US Congress. I represent NY-12. Parts of Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens. You live in Queens, right?"

If she was going to stretch out her hand for him to shake, he might actually have to laugh in her face. But as he only stared at her, his lips sealed tight, she just turned and indicated the man standing next to her.

"This is Chief Clarke, he is the head of the NYPD. The New York City Police Department."

Peter shot a quick glance over to the chief, then couldn't help but lower his eyes. Oh, they had met. Peter could only hope that the chief didn't know that though.

"You did tell the officers your name, right? It is Peter?"

He didn't move. He didn't dare even twitch a single muscle. Yes, he had told them that. He had told them his name when they had pressed his body against the asphalt, desperate for them to let up. Maybe... maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. He drew in a deep breath.

"Peter, I know you must be scared." The cop behind her just snorted, but the Congresswoman either didn't notice or didn't care. She kept her eyes on Peter. "We are trying to get to the bottom of what happened today. You want that, too, right?"

Mr. Stark had said he shouldn't cooperate. The Black Widow, too. They would know best, right? Better than him anyway. So, he kept his mouth shut.

"We will need to take a DNA sample from you, Peter. It's just a routine test. You don't have to be scared."

Peter shook his head, breathing through the pain. "No."

The Congresswoman blinked at him, mouth open to speak that quickly stretched into a smile. "This must all be very weird for you. I'm sure, if you cooperate with the officers here, they will be happy to help you feel more comfortable in the room while we wait for the result."

Peter shook his head again. "No, I don't want a DNA test. I want a lawyer."

He felt the Widow move a little closer at that. The policemen's faces darkened at his comment, but the Congresswoman kept her smile in place. "I know all of this is very confusing, Peter. I'm really sorry. Of course, we will find someone who advocates for you. But this... this is just a routine procedure."

"Alright, enough with the pussyfooting. You!" The chief stepped forward, eyes on the Widow. "Go ahead, we need this now." He held a vial out for her to take.

They wanted to do that right now? His eyes shot over at the Black Widow. She wouldn't do that, right? Oh god, they had to get out. They should have gotten out while there was nobody in the room just like he had thought they should.

The Widow just shook her head, thick Russian accent back in place. "No, this against protocol."

"This is not up for debate. I'm ordering you to do your job!" The chief raised his voice, eyes dark with a clear threat for her to comply.

"Chief Clarke," the Congresswoman weighed in, "I'm not sure this is the best—"

"With all due respect, Congresswoman, this is my jurisdiction. You being here is my courtesy." The chief turned back, vial still in hand. "Nurse, we need a DNA swap. Presently."

The Widow's demeanor didn't change. Her posture strong, arms now crossed in front of her, eyebrows raised in distinct unimpressed skepticism. "There is protocol. No patient consent, no procedure. You need court order."

The chief huffed, eyes squinted at her. "I'm the police chief of this town. This," he pointed at Congresswoman Davis, "is the representative of this congressional district. You will do as we tell you to do."

She pointed at the chief "You police." then at the congresswoman "You politician." She shrugged, her face unmoving. "Neither judge. Go get judge."

The Congresswoman cleared her throat. "You understand that this is a minor. We want this whole thing to be over as quickly as possible for him because we don't want to keep him here any longer than we have to. It's just a harmless swab. It's not going to hurt him and it will get him back home so much faster than escalating this process would take. I'm sure you have the boy's best interest at heart."

Peter wanted to gag at the sweet smile on the woman's lips as well as the sickening honey tone of her voice.

The Widow looked just as unimpressed as before. "This hospital can not afford lawsuit from billionaire. You need order from judge or patient consent. You have neither."

The Congresswoman's mouth fell open in shock, the chief next to her clutched the vial so strongly, Peter was rooting for the glass to break. That would at least buy him some time.

"I..." the woman stuttered, "I'm not sure what exactly you are referring to. There..." She shot a glance at the police chief. "There is no reason to think that—"

"I have social media, madame. I know what is happening. No consent, no procedure."

Peter looked over at Natasha Romanoff, but she still had her eyes fixed on the three officials. What was she going on about? Had the police actually put out the information about his true identity already? That was impossible.

The door flew open again and a hospital staffer walked in but came to a full stop as his eyes fell on the number of occupants in the room. The door fell shut behind him and the mechanic click of the lock rang through the otherwise quiet room. "What in the world is going on here?"

"Who are you?" the chief spat out.

"I'm Doctor Abrahams, head of the trauma and the ER department. Who are you?" The doctor's eyes wandered down to the stars on the chief's uniform and he added a hesitant "Sir" to his question.

"Good. Chief Clarke, NYPD. Your nurse is refusing orders. We need a DNA test administered right away."

The doctor's eyes shifted to the Black Widow. "That's why I'm here. Who are you?"

Peter's pulse spiked and there was a distinct ringing in his ears. This was it. They were made. He looked up at Ms. Romanoff, waiting for the signal to break the cuffs on his wrists and bolt.

"Yulia Griffin," she said, voice calm. "I am in charge of nursing staff."

Doctor Abrahams' eyebrows shot up. "My nursing staff?"

"You have senior nurses call in sick, so you requested me. I am substitute from Metro General."

"Oh. Right." He cleared his throat. "What seems to be the problem here, Nurse Griffin?"

Peter's eyes went back and forth between the Widow and the new Doctor. He just wanted out. He just wanted to leave. The man excused himself and made his way through the little crowd that had by now assembled in the hospital room. Standing next to Peter's bed, he frowned at the cuffs and then shot another glance at the chief.

"Patient is refusing the sample, Sir," the Widow informed him.

"Ah, I see." The doctor looked up at him. "Peter, is it? You refused the DNA test?"

Peter tried to focus. Tried to do as Mr. Stark had told him. One sense. One sense at a time. Focus on one thing and go from there, but the pain in his arm, the low throbbing of his neck, the chaffing on his wrists whenever he tried to move, made thinking impossible.

"I just... I just want to see my Aunt. I don't... I don't—"

"That's not really possible right now, Peter." The man sighed and looked up. He frowned and turned around. "Where is the social worker?"

"I'm advocating for the boy, Doctor Abrahams. We really just need that test and the faster we do that the faster we can move on to get him settled." The Congresswoman interjected. "I'm sure Peter will be—"

"Nurse Griffin," the Doctor ignored the woman's statement and instead turned back to the Widow. "Why is there no social worker in this room?"

"Should have arrived with police force, Sir," she explained, eyes on the doctor. "Just came here to treat wounds and for food. They asked for test but patient refuses."

Doctor Abrahams groaned. "Alright, nothing is happening here before the boy doesn't have legal representation."

"This is unacceptable!" The chief's voice was almost shrill. "This needs to be handled with the utmost urgency."

Congresswoman Davis stepped closer to the bed. "Doctor, I assure you as a member of the congressional —"

The Widow stopped her mid-sentence. "Last time I checked, Congress members are not judicial branch."

The Congresswoman flinched back, eyes wide at Ms. Romanoff's determined tone.

"Right." The doctor shook his head and pulled out a small tablet. "Nurse Griffin, call CPS and legal. There'll be no test without consent and a minor can't consent without legal representation." He shook his head and glared at Clarke. "Are you trying to get us all sued, man?"

"We are investigating a crime here!" The chief spat out.

"Right." The doctor put his tablet back into his coat pocket. "Nurse Griffin, stay in here till the child advocate arrives or find someone on staff who will. Gentlemen," he gave a short bow to the Congresswoman, "Ma'am. You better get on that court order. We have a protocol here."

* * *

**###**

* * *

_[author's note: Thank you all for the wishes and lovely comments. :) I always enjoy your reactions thoroughly!_

_I'm on a bit of a roll with these chapters. As always, don't get attached to the update speed and just enjoy it while it lasts :P ;)]_


	57. Hands Off! - Chapter 57

**Chapter 57 - Hands Off!**

Tony's heart was beating in an unnatural rhythm. It had been for days, unable to calm down. Not after he had prevented Ross from busting both the boy and the Rogues. Not after he had managed to snatch him from the clutches of those kidnappers aided by the Rogues. Certainly not after he had found out the truth about the kid. About Peter. Aiden. Not even Pepper had truly managed to calm him enough so he could drown out that erratic fast beating of his heart.

That alone should have been enough for him to realize that his plan had been flawed. Should have been enough to make him reconsider, turn around before it was too late. Maybe he could have stopped this. Maybe he could have kept the kid hidden away, out of reach from Barnes, protected from the press, the police, all of them if he had just stayed. He had failed though. He hadn't managed to do what had been most important. Sacrificing his own needs, his own desperate craving to keep his son close, had done nothing but make things worse.

He couldn't get the kid's voice out of his head, his painfully distressed pleas, his voice too heavy to even really string together a whole sentence. It had been pure agony and only Barton and Doctor Cho's combined efforts had been able to stop him from rushing right to that damn hospital.

Waiting and staring at the machines hadn't been enough. He had delved right back into research mode. Nobody could hold a candle to Tony in research mode even as his hands were shaking and his mind was racing. Clarke. Fucking Clarke was in on this somehow. He knew something and Tony still had no idea what that was, but the idea made him sick.

_**"Boss, my algorithm registers and active FAD alert."**_

And just like that, Tony's heart froze.

Barton looked up at the ceiling, then at Tony. "What does that mean?"

He had already jumped out of his chair, one swift motion with his hand had FRIDAY pull up the data. "It means I'm trending."

"Trending where?" A deep frown on his face, the man came closer, eyes squinting at the different numbers and keywords. "Oh, that..."

"Yeah." Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. "That seems to be everywhere."

Tony's name had popped up simultaneously all over the internet. But not just his name.

_Avenger Tony Stark's long lost son rumored to have resurfaced in New York._

_Kidnapped son of billionaire philanthropist in police custody after violent attack in Queens, New York City._

_Violent fight between fugitives Steve Rogers and the Winter Soldier leads to arrest of boy identified as Aiden Elliot Stark, son of Iron Man and billionaire tech genius Tony Stark._

_NYPD match fingerprints of local boy with those of Aiden Stark, lost son of billionaire Avenger Tony Stark. Captain America and the Winter Soldier arrested in connected struggle._

His throat closed a little more with every headline that popped up. In and out. He tried to focus on his breathing. This... they... fuck.

"How... how can they—" He pulled up one article after the other. "FRI, any mention of the kid's name? Any— Shit. Fucking shit, I..."

"Tony, just breathe..." Barton stood close to him, brow furrowed. "This is a good thing. This will help."

"Help? _Help?_" He stared at the New York Times' breaking news story and there in bold letters they had printed it all.

_Young boy from Queens. _

_Arrested in connection to fight with Captain America and the Winter Soldier. _

_Fingerprints matched Aiden Elliot Stark._

_Arrested boy lived under the name of Peter Parker._

"They..." Tony swallowed hard. "The... the kid... this... this wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be safe and not—" Deep breaths.

"Listen... Tony, listen if you— Without knowing what you know and this message comes in? What do you do?" Clint raised his eyebrows.

"I... I would..." Another deep breath.

"You would rush there and demand to know what the fuck is going on."

Tony blinked at the headlines a couple more times.

_Avenger Tony Stark's long lost son identified by NYPD with fingerprint match._

"Right." The archer had a point.

"It means if you... if you go right now, nobody would even question it. Nobody would ever question what you knew about this before the fact. I think... I think this might be Nat."

"Nat?"

"Yeah, Nat and her... and her Wakandian connection."

Tony felt sick. "I don't even know what that is supposed to mean."

Barton stared at him point-blank. "It means we can kick this into the next gear. It means when Helen has a sample ready that is good enough to fool them you can go and get your boy."

Natasha. What the fuck was she thinking? Peter's name being out there that... that would change everything.

"FRIDAY, update on Helen, now!"

They had been close. Helen had been so close and in such a short time. There would have been no way he could have reverse engineered that DNA sample anywhere near as fast as Helen had.

It took him another 30 minutes to calm the fuck down. Well, to calm somewhat down. 5 frantic messages to Natasha later, he was in the Iron Man armor on route to the Tower. He had a car wait in the parking garage, had exchanged the armor for a three-piece suit, a different kind of armor.

The DNA sample lay heavy in his suit pocket. Helen had taken the neutral carrier Tony had synthesized and swiftly inserted the modified DNA structure. A DNA sample that could have been his son's at 13 years of age if it hadn't been for that spider bite. Not just a replica of the sample collected in 2005 after Aiden had been taken, but a 99.9% match that allowed for environmental modifications that DNA would naturally endure over a period of 10 years.

The sample had been transferred to a cotton swab. It would work. It could fool anyone if they only managed to place it without suspicion. If he would manage to get there in time.

Nobody had called him, not the hospital, not the NYPD. The latter didn't surprise him. With Clarke still in charge, they would angle to use this as much to their advantage as they could. They would use it against him, exclude him and pressure the boy, scare him to give away something, anything. Then they would use whatever they learned to try to extract favors from Tony. That was the best-case scenario, cause he could only hope that they didn't know, that Clarke hadn't found out the kid's most important secret.

The press outside the hospital was fighting over the best spots close to the entrance, how to best bask in his personal heartache. On a normal day, he'd feel guilty about the extra stress they were putting on the hospital staff, but this wasn't just any other day. His son was in that building. His teenage son, hurt and frightened, his true identity threatened to be revealed to the whole world with all the consequences that would bring.

On any other day, he would have FRIDAY find a different way into that building. The one with the lowest chances of being seen, but right now he needed the public's sympathies on his side. He would need the pressure on the authorities that came with sappy fluff pieces and his tense face plastered on the front page of every newspaper in the country as well as all over social media. As much as he wanted to keep his kid, his family private, safe and far away from everyone's prying eyes, that ship had sailed. Now he would need the press to tell the story to his benefit.

A wave of nausea ran through him at the thought of how his kid fighting for his life had been sensationalized. He had to get into that building. He had to get to the kid and at least the attention had given him the excuse he needed to show up at the hospital without raising too many eyebrows on what he knew.

By the time his driver went to open the car door, the cluster of reporters had moved up so close to the car that the door wouldn't even open all the way. He pushed his way through the crowd, thankful for the dark glasses he had picked. Even with that extra protection, his vision was mostly gone, blinded by all the camera flashes by the time he made it through the door. He hadn't announced his arrival to anyone but somehow there was still a lady waiting in the foyer.

"Mr. Stark. My name is Elaine Thomas. I'm with the hospital. We have a room prepared for you to wait for Congresswoman—"

"There's only one room I'll be heading for. You better tell me where my son is before my lawyers show up and sue this whole circus for every cent it's worthwhile they figure out who exactly is criminally responsible for this shit show." He tried to keep his tone flat and deadly but there was a quiver in his voice that - had she actually known him - would have given away the nerves he was fighting.

"Mr. Stark, I do understand that you are anxious. This is such a difficult situation to be dealing with. I assure you we—"

His phone vibrated in his pocket. A message form Natasha.

_Get. Here. Faster!_

Tony jumped forward, left with a quick shout over his shoulder directed at the lady from the hospital. "I highly doubt you have the slightest idea of the _situation_ I'm dealing with, not that it matters."

The elevators were to their left and he was done chitchatting. His boy needed him and he'd break out his suit and fly up to the fifth floor if he had to. For now, he'd do things the civil way. Without as much as another glance in the lady's direction, he headed for the elevator. The doors opened instantly.

"Excuse me, Mr. Stark. Sir, I really must insist—"

"You really do want to meet my lawyers, don't you?" Tony hit the number 5 on the elevator control panel. Room 513. That's what Natasha had said. 513. He took deep breaths, willing his nerves to calm down. He couldn't screw this up.

The lady from the hospital stepped into the steel car along with him, babbling about procedure and the hospital's administration. Regulations from the NYPD.

The NYPD. Fuck them. Fucking Clarke was the next person on Tony's list. He was neck-deep in this whole operation but as long as he had his son, Tony couldn't do anything. Wouldn't dare to touch him.

"I assure you, Sir, we are doing our very best and everything is dealt with according to protocol."

The lady was getting on his nerves. Did she think her talking at Tony would actually do anything for him? Would make him reconsider on whether he'd storm in there, whether he would just let it go and wait till they were good and ready for him to see his son? The elevator had almost reached the fifth floor when he took of his glasses and turned to her, the grimmest look on his face that he could manage. Not that it was difficult to muster given the circumstances.

"Listen, lady, I promise you I won't hesitate to sue this whole city until everyone here needs to move to Iowa and to find someone who's willing to employ them, so if you don't want to move into one of the pole positions you better stop yapping in my ear. I will go and see my son and nothing you say or do will change that, are we understood?"

"I..." She swallowed hard, eyes wide. "Yes. Yes, Sir."

He slipped the glasses into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

"Now. 513. Left or right?"

"It's... erm, it's to the left, Sir. At the end of the corridor."

The doors of the elevator opened just in time and he marched out into the hallway. There weren't many people on the floor, a few more to his right, but as he strutted down the corridor to the left there was very little commotion around him, his steps echoing hollow from the naked walls. The last door on the left was room number 513. Tony didn't hesitate to push the door open and it forcefully hit someone in the back.

"Hey, you have no—" A lean, blond-haired NYPD officer jumped a bit as the door hit him and turned on Tony. "You can't just come in here!"

"The fuck I can't," Tony said under his breath. He didn't even care. He just pushed past the guy until he stood in the middle of the room. His eyes first fell onto Nat. She stood right next to the hospital bed, cotton swab in hand. Then there was Peter in the bed, cuffs around his wrists that were tethered to the steel frame of the hospital bed, a thick white bandage wrapped around his neck as well as his arm. Tony spun around towards the officer and had to stop himself from grabbing the guy by the collar.

"Take those off," he snarled through gritted teeth. "Take those cuffs off him right now."

"Those are protocol."

At the sound of that particular voice, a cold chill went down Tony's back. Shoulders pulled back, head held high, he couldn't help himself and stepped closer to the man he wanted to get his hands on more than anyone else right now. Fucking Clarke. "I'm going to fucking show you another kind of protocol if you don't—"

The chief cocked his head at him. "Are you threatening the chief of the NYPD, Mr. Stark? You need to leave this room right this instance."

Tony narrowed his eyes on him. "Or what, Clarke?"

"Or I'll arrest you for obstructing police work and threatening an officer of the state."

There was nothing Tony wanted to do more than punch that smug grin off of the asshole's face. That wicked smile his lips pulled into as he mentioned the obstruction. It could very well be a subtle hint that the police already knew more about Peter. About the Stark internship. If they didn't know yet, they were bound to find out soon and there was little he could do. Peter's position was official with the company. He had been on the payroll and if Tony went ahead and deleted the time account that tied the kid to his own lab he'd have to pick an engineer he could trust to lie for him and right now he didn't trust anyone to lie for him. He had to pick his fights in this and this time he would have to bite his tongue.

He pushed past Natasha who stood frozen, cotton swab still in hand. The kid's face crumbled in a gut-wrenching mix of hope and anguish.

"Hey kid..." he whispered, positive that only Peter would be able to make out the words. "You'll be fine, alright? You'll be just fine."

Tony had to hold himself back, had to stay a step out of reach of the bed lest he would lunge for his boy and pull him close. The boy's arms hung slack between his shoulders and the steel cuffs on his wrists, fastened at an uncomfortable height on the bed's railing. Peter would be able to snap them just like that, but not if he wanted to keep his powers to himself. Natasha had done what she could to hide his obvious injuries from view. Tony's eyes lingered on the thick bandage around the kid's throat. He still had no idea what had really happened in that apartment. Peter would know of course, so would May Parker and possibly Rogers. And Barnes. Neither of them was a source of information that Tony could fall back on though.

Not that what happened really mattered right now. All that mattered now, was for Peter to be safe. He had to get his boy out of the hands of these people, bring him to the Tower where nobody could get to him. Have his team check him over. Helen knew Peter. She'd know what to do, how to deal with his injuries. The physical ones at least.

The chaffed skin on his arms, the taped cut across his cheek. That dark spot that had formed close to the kid's temple. There were a few cuts and what looked like tiny burn blisters on his arms as well, but nothing too serious. All those were superficial. He would heal up in no time and that sure was another reason why they needed to leave sooner rather than later. His left arm was wrapped in a heavy dressing as well. But all of these injuries would mean nothing compared to the implications of what had happened in the Parker's apartment. Barnes' attack, the police running the kid's prints and finding out about who Peter truly was. The implications that would have on the boy's life.

Everything would change now. Tony had been a fool. A damn fool. All Tony could do now, was protect him, shield him from those who would harm him. The way the kid looked at him, judging from the trust and hope that flashed in his eyes, he still had no inclination what all this meant. What Tony showing up would mean for the rest of the boy's life, even if Tony did manage to get him out of _this_ mess.

Tony would publicly embrace him as his son and that came with its own rules. With its own dangers and complications. With its own consequences.

Right now, that didn't matter though. All that mattered was the fear and pain written clearly all over the boy's face. He couldn't hold back any longer, his hand reaching out for Peter. Not to clasp his hand like he wanted to, that felt like a too-familiar gesture and he would still have to do his best to feign ignorance to the truth in front of the officers. Tony reached for his upper arm instead, squeezed it as tightly as he dared without hurting the kid.

"Mr. Stark, I... I don't... I'm—"

"Shhh." Tony looked right at him then, eyes locked with the boy's. "Everything will be alright. You'll be alright." He put all the force he could muster into his stare, willing Peter not to say too much, to stay quiet and not give away how well they really knew each other. How much relief he probably felt that Tony was there now.

This wasn't over, far from it.

"Step away from the detainee, Stark. You have no clearance, absolutely no permission to be in here!" Clarke's voice carried so much vile. Even if Tony hadn't known how deeply he was involved in all of this, it still would have made his blood boil.

But Tony refused to move. He kept his hand firmly on his boy. The tremor of the kid's muscles proved just how on edge Peter was, how close his senses were to overtake him. They had to get out of there before this whole thing would blow up in their faces.

"Did they tell you what is happening, buddy?" He spoke loud enough for the room to hear.

"Stark! You have no authority to be here!" Clarke wouldn't give up on this, but he'd have to have Tony drag out by a whole bunch of guys to make him leave.

"Do you know why you're here, kid?" Tony tried again.

Peter's eyes were wide, shining with moisture. He was probably scared. Well, of course he was scared, worried he would say the wrong thing. "Because..." the boy swallowed hard and twitched in pain. "Because I got hurt?"

"No, buddy. They ran your prints and found that—"

"Mr. Stark! Please, you can't! There's a protocol!" Great, the annoying hospital lady had made her way into the room as well, followed by a flustered Congresswoman Davis.

"Johnson!" Clarke's voice was a sharp bark. "Get him out of here!"

Tony turned before Clarke's officer could put his hands on him.

"You better bring more than one guy if you want to drag me out of this building, Clarke! I bet the pool of reporters out front will love to have a picture of the NYPD dragging Tony Stark away from the sickbed of his injured son."

The officer had frozen, uncertainly looking back and forth between his boss and Tony. It wasn't even an empty threat. The press would eat this up like butter and it would be a cakewalk for Tony to spin this in his favor. All that would take too long though, upset the kid too much, maybe to a point where he would snap. Tony's first priority was to get Peter out of there and safely to the Tower. Make sure the world would never learn who Spider-Man truly was. Give his senses time to recover, his body time to heal.

"Mr. Stark," the lady let out in a high-pitched shriek.

All eyes turned to Peter now. Tony had just dropped a bomb and his reaction would be crucial. The kid hadn't moved an inch, frozen except for his hands that now clutched the railing of the hospital bed right next to where the cuffs were fastened. He clutched the handrail so hard, his knuckles had turned white. His face was just as white, eyes even wider than before. The kid was a horrible liar. The shock on his face was not a reaction to the news but to Tony's blunt delivery. It would do though. It would be enough to make them believe that Peter had had no idea.

"Take those fucking cuffs off him, Clarke, or I'll swear, I'll cut them off myself."

"You don't tell me what to do, Stark."

"Actually, this court order issued by the district's court I have right here says differently."

Tony's eyes shifted to the door and there was never a more beautiful sight than his girl, pointed heels, suit and all, standing tall in the entrance of the room, coming to the rescue of his son. Pepper didn't need thrusters or laser beams, all she needed was her sharp brain, a good grasp of the law and an unwavering commitment to keeping his boy safe.

"Judge Tarino agrees upon reviewing the video evidence that Peter Parker has acted in defense of a third person. The arrest is to be voided and he is to be released to his legal guardian Tony Stark." She pushed the documents into the police chief's hands. "We have to thank your department for proving who the boy's true guardian is, Chief Clarke."

Clarke sneered and thrust the documents into his underling's hands. "That won't be decided until the DNA test comes back!"

"Judge Tarino's order states quite clearly—"

"I don't give a shit what it says. I, too, have an order from the district's family court that decided that a DNA test will determine the boy's parentage! Any action against it will find you in contempt with pending kidnapping charges, lady." Clarke looked back and forth between Tony and Pepper like he was daring them to defy him. Like he would like nothing better than arresting them both on the spot.

The Congresswoman cleared her throat. "Chief Clarke, I thought we had agreed that the young man would need a child advocate before any steps could be taken in this quests of yours for a DNA sample."

Clarke waved to the other side of the room. "Did that. Now, let's get back to business. Nurse! Go on!"

Tony's eyes flickered to the chair on the other side of the wall and sure enough, a little mousy woman was sat there, eyes so wide it made Peter look less afraid.

Congresswoman Davis shook her head slightly. "Oh... oh I see. You... CPS send you, Miss..?"

"Muller," the woman whispered, clearly desperate to be anywhere but in that room right now.

The Congresswoman didn't seem all too impressed with the submissive attitude the young woman displayed. "Miss Muller. And you advised this boy here go ahead with the DNA sample?"

"I... N—no, ma'am. But the, erm... the order the chief erm... Chief Clarke, he... the order from the judge means the can demand it and... and hospital protocol, it... well, it means they have to take the sample."

Davis nodded along then turned to Natasha. "Well, nurse, if that is correct then I guess—"

The door was pushed open once again and another four officers tried to make their way into the room.

"Ah." Neither Clarke nor his man Johnson did a good job in hiding their glee. "Back up's here. Come in, come in. Mr. Stark would like to be escorted outside and you two might need to help out the fine nurse here."

"Hey!" They pushed past Pepper. The kid's eyes were wide and he was scooching back in the bed, cuffs rattling on the bed's railings. The situation was so far out of Tony's control he was just about ready to bust through that window and take the kid with him.

"Chief Clarke!" Congresswoman Davis' face had gone white. "Please, I'm sure we can find a... a more civil solution."

Tony would fight them. He wouldn't hesitate. Even if it would end up with him in the damn Raft, but not one of these clowns would put as much as a finger on his boy.

"Chief Clarke!" Davis' voice was so shrill if stopped the men in their tracks. "This... this is no way to go about this, chief. I'm sure we can find a—erm... compromise that Mr. Stark and his... his team would agree to. I'm sure they will agree to the test as well as the wait for the results if you make the process of waiting a little more comfortable for the boy." She turned to Tony, a teeth-achingly sweet smile on her lips but her eyes a deep pool of nerves. "I'm sure it's in Mr. Stark's own interest to make sure the NYPD's records aren't mistaken."

"In my best—" Tony blew out a shuddering breath. "The only interest I have is that the boy is left alone! He's been attacked! Shot at and..." He didn't know what had happened to the boy's neck. Only that there were bruises that... that meant he might have been strangled. Then there was the matter of his arrest. "...and the NYPD brutalized him for it! Cuffed him to the bed when the skin on his arm has been torn by a bullet and now... now they want to prod him even more, even though we have everything we need to prove that he is my son!"

"Brutalized?" Officer Johnson scoffed. "We treated him like we would any other person who fired shots in the middle of town. There's no special treatment for the spawn of—"

"Officer!" The Congresswoman's eyes were wide, looking back and forth between Clarke and his little stooge.

Tony's heartbeat so fast and so loudly in his ears, he had a hard time even trying to think. "They say the fingerprints matched. That's all I need. Scientifically that's all that's needed. I don't want them to touch my son "

Peter whimpered behind him but he couldn't afford to take his eyes off of Clarke's goons.

The Congresswoman swallowed hard. "The nurse... the nurse can swab him and... and I'm sure Chief Clarke and his man, they can just wait somewhere... somewhere else. There is... Mr. Stark, there is a court order that demands this I..."

She was pleading with him. He could tell. She was trying to deescalate, but she didn't know what she was asking. Tony's hand brushed over the pocket of his suit jacket. He could still feel the test tube safely hugged by the fabric. Natasha hadn't taken it then. Hadn't had a chance.

"I want them out!" His voice sounded breathless. "The cuffs need to go and I don't want them near him, any of them!"

"Oh, fuck you, Stark, we will—"

She sent a glare at the chief that managed to shut him up. "And then you'll agree. You'll let the nurse do her job."

He swallowed hard. His eyes flickered first to Natasha, then to Pepper. He could still refuse and then what? His watch surely would be enough to take them on. One glove against 5 human officers. He couldn't contain them and the kid at the same time though. Knowing Peter, he'd jump at the chance to bolt. Natasha. Natasha might be willing to blow her cover, but then what? They'd have to flee the country for good. Somewhere they wouldn't get extradited. If Rogers could do it, Tony sure could as well. But was he willing to put the kid through that? And Pepper? Maybe lose her after all? There was still a chance that their switcheroo with the samples could work and if it did... well, if it did things would be a lot easier.

Tony's hand brushed over the fabric of his suit once more. It was still there. She would take it, right? Natasha would make this work.

"Fine." His gaze met the Congresswoman's. "Get them away from the boy and we'll comply with the order."

"I don't fucking need you _complying_, Stark, I'll make you."

"Chief Clarke!" Davis' was losing her last nerve.

"What? Who knows what they could be up to!" The chief pointed back and forth between Tony and Pepper. "Could take Stark's sample for all we know to try and cheat the system like they always do! Not accountable to any of their bullshit, are they! I'm not leaving! I'm here to witness the process. That's my job!"

Tony's fists were clenched. "That's not how the sample even works, you fucking moron!"

"Fine. But you don't need backup to witness this!" The Congresswoman turned to the policemen than had just squeezed into the hospital room. "We don't need all of you people in here. None of this is helping!"

There was a whole lot of shuffling back and forth as Clarke's men made their way out of the room. Tony's pulse was still all over the place but he managed to move closer to the boy. Peter looked tiny hunched over in that bed, arms still stretched between the cuffs on both railings, tears still wet on his face.

"Mr... Mr. Stark, please, they..."

"Shh..." His hand was on the boy's arm, careful not to hurt him. The skin underneath his fingers was clammy with cold sweat, twitching as the kid's nerves were spiking. He kept his voice as low as he could manage. "It's gonna okay, buddy. Don't you worry. I'll make sure—"

"Stark, stay the fuck away! Don't even for a minute think you can give me the runaround!"

Tony squeezed the boy's arms once, then stepped back just far enough for Natasha to push her way through. She instructed Peter to open his mouth and carefully rubbed the cotton swab along the inside of his cheeks. Clarke was watching him like a hawk, not even sparing a glance in the kid's direction. The glass test tube still lay heavy in Tony's pocket. He had to get the sample to Natasha somehow but he had no idea how to do it. They were running out of time and if Tony fucked this up—

"There we go. All easy." The thick Russian accent startled Tony but his head was back in the game as soon as Clarke rushed forward.

"Gimme that!"

"Stay the fuck back, Clarke!" The man was a lot taller than Tony but he wouldn't get intimidated by that. Not when his son's safety was at stake.

"Tony!" Pepper's voice was high pitched.

"Stop it! Chief Clarke!" The Congresswoman stepped forward as well, almost hysterical at this point.

After a bit of a tussle, Clarke ripped the sample out of Natasha's hand.

"Goodness, chief!" The Congresswoman shook her head in disbelieve. "Was that really necessary!"

The chief wasn't fazed though, no. The shit-eating grin on Clarke's face made Tony's insides spasm. Like the cat that got the cream, victory so plainly written all over his face. A quick glance at Pepper confirmed that she saw just what he did. Clarke thought of this as a victory. He thought that he had won, which could only mean that... Tony reached for Pepper's hand, squeezed it tightly to keep his own from shaking. He knew something. Clarke was so sure that he knew something that would prove detrimental to them, to Tony. And he thought that DNA test would prove it.

"You agreed to take the cuffs off him!" Pepper's voice was shaking, not even with fear, she was livid.

Clarke gave a cocky nod in the direction of officer Johnson who was still by his side. The man pushed past him and Pepper, making a point of needing space. Not too gently, he opened up the cuff on Peter's right wrist. Tony's mind played an incredibly vivid daydream in front of his eyes, how he would hunt them down. How he would catch them, use the heaviest, most restraining titanium cuffs he could find on them. Cuffs that would bind them to the wall, no room to move. No room to rest or find any relief in stretching their legs. He'd let them rot in jail till the end of eternity.

Peter was whimpering as the guy took a hold of his other arm next, the one with the bullet wound.

"Hey!" Pepper took a step closer to the bed, her eyes burning.

"You'd think someone like you would know all about how pain meds work." The officer didn't even look at them, collecting the open cuffs. "He didn't even feel any of that. The kid's just a little drama queen."

Tony's hands balled up into fists. Maybe not just regular jail. Maybe he would put them in one of the dark single-cell compartments on the lowest level of the Compound. No sunlight. No fresh air.

"Get the fuck out!" He knew he shouldn't let them get to him, but he couldn't help himself. The tears that hung on the boy's lashes, the pain they caused him, Tony just couldn't contain his anger.

"We'll make sure to keep the room observed." The corner's of Clarke's mouth twitched. "We don't want to risk any accidents, do we? For your protection, Mr. Stark." He pointed at Natasha. "Go on, this needs to get to the lab!" He wiggled the test tube he had wrangled from Natasha between his fingers in obvious mocking. "Lead the way, nurse."

The men turned without another word, way too pleased with themselves. Natasha didn't look at him either and he could just hope, just pray that she had either managed the impossible or would just strangle both men in a deserted hallway. As soon as the door fell shut behind them, Pepper was by the boy's side, her arms pulling him in, mumbling low whispered words of comfort.

"Shh, oh darling, it'll be okay. Everything will be just fine."

Congresswoman Davis was still in the room. So was the lady from CPS. Davis had shuffled so far towards the wall next to the door, her back was pressed against it. Her eyes were wide, staring at Peter.

"Congresswoman." Tony made an effort to reign in the anger and desperation that was pulsing through his veins. "If you don't mind, we'd appreciate some privacy."

"I... I didn't know they would— I... Clarke, he..." She shook her head, just stared at how tightly the kid clung to Pepper.

"Yeah, that's who they are. The only thing that matters to them is power and power." He kept a close eye on her, convinced that he would lose himself in his emotions if he turned to look at Pepper and Peter. "That's who you picked to align yourself with. Maybe it's time to rethink your priorities, Congresswoman."

She stayed stoic, eyes fixed on the boy behind him.

"Congresswoman." Deep breaths. He couldn't let his anger flare. "You were just about to leave." His eyes traveled over to Miss Muller. "Do I need to get a dictionary so you can all look up what privacy means?"

The woman cowered in her seat, eyes at Tony. "I... I can't... I can't... I'm not... not allowed, I—"

Tony groaned. "Just... I don't know. Maybe you need to use the restroom or something?"

Miss Muller jumped to her feet. "I... some... some water... I think... I think the boy needs some... some water."

She ran from the room so fast, she almost stumbled over the Congresswoman's feet. Just as she rushed past, Davis' head whipped around and she quickly made her way out of the room too, finally leaving them safe from prying eyes. Tony's hand went to his pocket. There was still a small bulge as he patted it down. Shaky fingers slipped past the fabric and curled around the glass test tube. His eyes cast down, he pulled it out only far enough to check. To make sure. His knees went weak and he had to grab the end of the bed for some support. It was empty. The sample was gone.

He spun around, wide eyes on the kid who still clung to Pepper. Three long strides and he was at the other side of the hospital bed, one hand at the back of the boy's head, the other on Pepper. The kid shook with heavy sobs.

"Shh, you're alright, buddy."

The boy turned, eyes on Tony. "But... but they'll know." His voice shook just as much as his arms were trembling. "They'll know now, everyone... everyone—"

"They won't." One of Tony's hands came up and wiped away the tears from the boy's face. "You have to trust me, kid. We have a plan, alright? You'll be fine."

"A... a plan?"

Tony nodded. His heart was breaking in real time looking at his boy. He was so scared and Tony couldn't even blame him. Not after he had let him down like that. "I'm sorry, kid. I should have been so much faster. Shh... come here..."

Peter didn't hesitate. He let himself be pulled close, but it didn't stop him from shaking.

"I... I didn't... didn't even do anything. He just... just broke down the door and then... and then he shot at us and I didn't— I don't know what I did. I don't know—"

"Shhh, nothing, buddy. You didn't do anything."

Tony's eyes found Pepper's. She was biting her lip, trying her hardest not to cry. One of her hands was holding on to Tony's arm, the other rubbed the kid's back.

"I... I swear, I... I stayed put... I didn't... I didn't even go looking... didn't go out, didn't—"

"Breath for me, buddy. You're shaking. You need to calm down so we can get out of here."

There was a vial in his other pocket, the sedative Helen had designed that would take all of the boy's pain away. That would soothe his senses. But it would also make him loopy, might even knock him out at this point. Tony couldn't risk that. As long as they were out in the open like this, things could still go wrong and Peter being conscious could make or break this for them.

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_[author's note: I wasn't kidding about getting attached to the update speed, was I ;)_

_Thank you guys for the awesome feedback on the last chapter. It's super fun to read your thoughts and theories and I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves ;) ]_


	58. Legal Guardian - Chapter 58

**Chapter 58 - Legal Guardian**

All his words were reassuring. Mr. Stark said that things would be just fine. That he'd be alright. That there was a plan and Peter would just have to trust them. That everything would be just fine.

But the man's eyes said something different. His pulse said something different. It screamed that he was nervous, tense, even... maybe even afraid.

10 minutes at best, that was how long Mr. Stark held him, tried to calm him, but Peter just couldn't get a grip on his senses. He felt exposed, too open, too vulnerable. One wrong step, one wrong word and they might all know. He might just give it all away. 10 minutes and then the lady from CPS turned up again. Peter didn't even mind her all that much, she looked just as scared by everything happening around them as he felt.

But she was a stranger. A stranger that worked for a government agency. They couldn't trust her and he couldn't hold it against either Miss Potts or Mr. Stark that they pulled away from him when the lady entered the room. Still, it felt like someone pulled the rug out from under him, again. His skin was prickling with nerves. Without the cuffs confining him to one place, Peter had a hard time just lying there. He wanted to fidget, unable to find a position on the bed that he could tolerate for more than a minute or two, but every movement reminded him of that bullet wound in his arm, the bruises on his body.

Mr. Stark was the first to reach for his hand again. He would whisper reassurances, repeat those words about safety and protection that all rang like lies even though Peter knew that he wanted to mean them, wanted to make him believe, maybe make himself believe that they would get out of there.

It was a waiting game. They both pulled a chair close to either side of his bed and settled down, took turns talking to Peter, would type frantically on their devices if they weren't, exchange glances from time to time. Time seemed to crawl as they were waiting for the results of the DNA test. Results that in their primary purpose, Peter didn't even question anymore. Way too quickly, he had made peace with what had come to be his new reality. If there had been any doubts left in him before, doubts that might have still plagued him the day before or even that very morning, they had all evaporated. As soon as Mr. Stark had pulled him close, when his arms had held Peter tightly and this ambient vibe had settled in his stomach, everything had seemed so clear all of a sudden.

Maybe he was just being silly. It didn't make any sense, scientifically. He couldn't deny it though. And maybe it wasn't even about genes, maybe it was just trust. Comfort that had been earned over time, over the last few months and some serious trouble Mr. Stark had helped him through. Maybe he really did just _want_ to believe it was true, but with all the thoughts, all the worst-case scenarios that buzzed in Peter's mind, not once was he worried that the test could somehow not confirm what had been unthinkable.

The unthinkable that Mr. Stark really was his dad.

No, it was everything else. His powers, things in his DNA that none of them had even thought of, that might catch them all by surprise. The door opening and a whole SWAT team pushing in to arrest him. Those kinds of fears kept him on edge. Mr. Stark needed to be reasonably sure though right? Reasonably sure that whatever they had planned would work, otherwise they surely would have busted out of there long ago. Or maybe not.

It had to have been less than an hour later when Natasha Romanoff made her way back into the room, carrying a tray of food. It wasn't even lunch or dinner time, maybe she was just grasping for an excuse to check up on them. It was then that Peter caught a glimpse of the armed guards patrolling in the hallway. They couldn't just bust out, could they? Not with Miss Potts there. Or other civilians that might be caught in the crossfire. No.

Shaky hands shoved the pieces of cut-up sandwich into his mouth that the Widow had brought him. He wasn't even hungry, but all the grown-ups insisted that he had to keep his strength up, that his body needed the energy to heal. It didn't seem like the best idea to him. Healing any faster than he normally would, seemed to be anything but a desirable goal there and then. As if she could read his mind, the Widow disappeared again and returned with more bandages and proceeded to carefully wrap his wrists that had been rubbed raw between the Winter Soldier's assault and the cuffs that had cut into his skin.

Things settled into a still tense but somewhat calmer atmosphere after the Widow left. It was just them and the lady from CPS. Peter might have even been on the verge of something that could resemble control if it hadn't been for Clarke. Peter could feel the man strutting down the hallway long before the door flew open. Mr. Stark in turn seemed to feel the nervous energy that radiated off Peter, the way his muscles automatically tensed.

The chief still had that satisfied smirk on his face, his underling still on his heels. "Still here then, Stark."

Mr. Stark must have been physically biting his tongue for he stayed quiet even though he was seething next to Peter. Before he could break and spew something back at Clarke, Doctor Abrahams came into the room followed by the Congresswoman.

"Ah, getting a little crowded in here, huh? Well, let me get to it then. I assume this is what you've been wait—"

"Give me that!" Clarke ripped the sealed envelope out of the doctor's hand and tore the paper apart at the top.

Next to his bed, Mr. Stark had gotten up and only stopped rushing forward when Miss Potts leaned in quickly and physically held him back, whispering softly, asking him to stay calm. Her eyes wandered over to Peter and he gave a couple of little nods. Sure, he'd just stay calm and wait for the NYPD's police chief to figure out his secret. No big deal.

Clarke whirled around and pressed the envelope and the piece of paper he had pulled out of it back against the doctor's chest. "Run this again!"

Dr. Abrahams' eyebrows shot up and after a quick glance in Congresswoman Davis' direction he took a step back from the chief and unfolded the documents. The look on Chief Clarke's face was anything but pleasant. That was probably a good thing for Peter. No smug smirk or anything, all that was gone.

"The lab evaluates the test as conclusive." The Doctor quickly read through the first pages, only gave a halfhearted glance at the other two pages. "The boy's DNA is a perfect match for that of Aiden Elliot Stark. 99.9% alignment as would be expected with—"

"Run. This. Test. Again!"

Mr. Stark cleared his throat, eyebrows arched. "On what grounds, _chief_?"

"On... on the ground of shut up, asshole!" He was advancing at Mr. Stark, finger pointing right at him. "I know you had your hands in this. I know it was you who told the boy to decline the test in the first place! I know you're hiding—"

"Congresswoman Davis," Mr. Stark turned, not even bothered by Clarke's temper tantrum. "I would implore you to take a good look at who you align yourself with. I get that it looks good for a reelection campaign, but the police departments endorsement isn't worth much if the head of the department is an unhinged clown with anger management issues."

The Congresswoman's face was positively red. "Chief Clarke, please, calm yourself."

Miss Potts stepped up next to Mr. Stark, both almost forming a barrier between Peter and the rest of the room. "We complied with your order and now, you will let us go. Doctor Abrahams," She turned to the doctor directly. "I do expect the hospital will follow procedure in this. I would hate to have to call in our legal department yet again. I don't think they will—"

"I know he works for you, Stark. I know you've been hiding him." Clarke was positively livid.

"I wasn't hiding him, you moron. I don't DNA test every intern SI takes on. Definitely will think about adopting that policy now though."

"Wait... " Congresswoman Davis looked back and forth between the chief and Mr. Stark. "You... the boy works for you?"

But it was Miss Potts, who answered. "He is a Stark Industries intern."

The Congresswoman's eyebrows were moving closer and closer together, her face otherwise blank. "You... you knew?"

"Of course, he fucking knew!" Clarke turned to her, smelling an opening. "He's fooling all of you! Thinks the rules don't apply to him, as usual!"

Mr. Stark didn't even flinch at Clarke's outbursts, his focus was entirely on the Congresswoman. "Congresswoman, I know you and I, we don't know each other very well, but I assume given my public profile you're familiar with my general MO." He couldn't help himself and stepped closer to her, his voice dangerously low. "If you think that I'm at all capable of knowingly working in the same building, let alone same room as my son who I've been searching for for over a decade, if you seriously think I could do that without doing something highly radical about it, you're alarmingly mistaken. I will get you anything between 50 to 100 character witnesses in here so fast who will vouch for my irrational over the top decision-making. And if you..."

Miss Potts stepped a little closer to him. With every word, Mr. Stark's voice had risen in volume as well as in agitation. But her hand on his arm reigned him in, stopped him effectively.

"None of that even matters." Miss Potts held her head high, voice firm. "Even if we had known that Peter Parker really was Mr. Stark's son, it still wouldn't change anything about his legal rights as his father."

"It's obstruction of justice!" Clarke had some of the glee back on his face. It made Peter's blood run cold. "He probably planned the whole thing. No way fit to care for a child!"

"Bullshit," Mr. Stark spat at him. His hands were balled up into fists as if that would physically contain him. "If you honestly think that you can try to keep me from my son for just another second or actively try to strip me of my parental rights so Chief Ass-face here can get off at throwing his weight around implying that I had anything whatsoever to do with keeping the boy hidden or even had him disappear, I promise you that you will find yourself with a defamation lawsuit so big, not even a third rate fast food restaurant would trust you flipping burgers after I'm done with you if you as much as mutter a word of accusation in my general direction. There is absolutely no evidence to suggest that I knew where my son was all along, because I didn't."

He didn't even glance in Clarke's direction now, his voice strong and in full force aimed at the doctor and the Congresswoman. "If you think you can keep me from my son I will make you suffer the consequences in front of the court, legal as well as public opinion. So do think very long and very hard about whether you really want to stop me from walking out of here with him."

"Mr. Stark, please." The Congresswoman had her hands up, eyes wide and round. "Of course we would never accuse you of anything like that."

The doctor shot a glance at Peter then cleared his throat. "Perhaps this conversation is more appropriate to be held in Miss Thomas' office. Gentlemen, if you—"

"There is no conversation necessary," Clarke spat at the doctor. "This is just Stark trying—"

"Chief Clarke!" It was the first time Peter had heard the doctor actually raise his voice. "The office, please."

The men stared daggers at each other until Clarke blew out an angry groan. "Johnson!" He pointed a stubby index finger at the police officer in a clear order for the man to stay put and stormed from the room. The doctor's eyes moved to Mr. Stark instead who gave a short nod.

"Right." He turned to Miss Potts. "Pep..."

"It's... it's fine, you go. I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere."

Mr. Stark swallowed hard, then nodded again. He sent a short glance over his shoulder at Peter like he needed to reassure himself that he hadn't moved. "I'll just be a minute."

The thought of Mr. Stark leaving even just the room without him made Peter's pulse pick up. It was pathetic and childish, but he couldn't help it that his eyes were wet. He was lying on his side, knees pulled up to his chest, one arm wrapped around himself. His senses were dialed up to the maximum, it was like the Winter Soldier had just let go of his throat, like Peter had just pulled the trigger of that gun mere seconds ago. Miss Potts was by side in an instance. She kneeled down next to the bed and put an arm around him. That seemed to be good enough for Mr. Stark for now. He gave another short nod and followed the doctor out of the room.

The clicking sound as the door fell shut rang through the room like a shot. Peter turned his face into Miss Potts' shoulder like it would hide him from everything that could go wrong.

"Shh, don't worry, darling. It's okay."

"What if... what if they arrest him, what if—"

"They won't." She blew out a long breath. "They won't. There's nothing to arrest him for."

"But... but Miss Potts—"

"Shh, we've got this. Just breathe, darling."

He tried to do just that, tried to tear his mind away from worst-case scenarios. Her hand found his and she squeezed it softly.

"Pepper." Her voice was low, whispered only for him to hear.

He nodded, eyes closed. He could do that. He could distract himself with that instead of scaring himself more and more. They had managed to keep his powers quiet, had done something that had them not pop up on that DNA test. If they could do that, they could do anything. If they could do that, it meant they really had this, had him. Would keep him safe. He could trust that, not just cause he wanted to but because they had already proven their strength.

It was only minutes later that the door to the room flew open again and Peter flinched away from the sudden movement. Ms. Potts... No, Pepper... Pepper still held his hand in her own.

"Shh, it's alright. You're alright," she whispered, her touch warm and strong on his skin.

It was Mr. Stark. He walked up to the bed with a few long and swift strides. His eyes flickered to the far side of the room, taking stock. That one NYPD officer was still hovering close to Peter's bed and the social worker sat in the corner drawing as little attention to herself as possible. His eyes back on Peter, he gave a short nod in their direction at which Pepper carefully squeezed Peter's hand once, then let go and stepped to the side. Hers was replaced by Mr. Stark's hand.

"Come on, buddy. Can you get up? We're getting you out of here."

"Mr. Stark!" The officer stepped closer to them, blocking the way to the door. "Step back from the detainee. You have no authority to—"

Mr. Stark turned on him, his hand still holding Peter's. "I'll give you a taste of actual authority, asshole, if you put another finger on my—"

"Tony." Pepper was by his side at once, planted herself between them and put her hand on top of Mr. Stark's. Her voice was low, would have been inaudible for anyone but Mr. Stark if it hadn't been for Peter's enhanced hearing. "Just take a breath, honey. We... we have to wait. When we have the release papers we—"

"I'm done waiting," he snarled eyes still on the officer.

Both of Pepper's hands came to rest on Mr. Stark's arms, squeezed them, eyes searching his face, looking for his attention. "I know you want him safe. I do, too. But if you're directly acting against police orders we're going to—"

"The prints were a match, so was the DNA. They have no right. He is to be released to a guardian and _I'm_ his legal guardian. His only legal guardian. Unless Chief tight-ass wants to make up a reason why—"

"Shhh. Tony, calm down." She pulled him closer, eyes intently on him, waiting for his glance to meet hers.

"No." He finally looked at her. "I'm done being calm. We're leaving."

With another whoosh, the door flew open once more. The police officer jumped in surprise. Chief Clarke stood in the doorway, one hand on the door holding it open. Just behind him, the Congresswoman was lingering in his shadow.

"Get your hands off that boy, Stark! He's not leaving."

"Oh, he is." Mr. Stark wasn't even looking at the man, his focus solely on Peter.

"I'm warning you. I don't give a fuck how much money you fling around. This city is under my rule."

Mr. Stark's hand was still in his. He couldn't tell if it was only his body that was shaking or if some of those vibrations came from Mr. Stark. Anger or fear, he didn't know. Peter squeezed his hand tightly, not wanting him to let go. Scared they would leave him there. "Mr... Mr. Stark—"

"Shhh." The man gave his head a subtle shake, his voice a whisper, too low to hear for anyone but Peter. "You'll be fine, kid. Don't worry."

"Get your hands off him, Stark!"

Pepper now stepped between them and the chief, shoulders drawn back, chin held high. "We have a court order, Chief Clarke. We conceited to the test you insisted on. The results remained the same. If anything it underlines Mr. Stark's right and I see no—"

"Shut up, Missy! We're getting a new order. A new test. I don't know how you cheated this, but we will not—"

"Chief Clarke, please!" The Congresswoman's eyes were wide as she witnessed the hostility between both parties.

"I'll throw you in jail for this, Stark, and it'll be my pleasure!"

"Oh yeah," Mr. Stark still held onto Peter's hand bit turned at last, eyes narrowed on Clarke. "Go on then. Do it. Cuff me. Drag me out in front of every single reporter in New York City. Go on, asshole. You want to put your hands on me, I will—"

"Tony. Stop." Miss Potts' voice couldn't hide the worry so plainly written across her face.

The door flew open once again and Doctor Abrahams walked right in, another lady by his side. He ditched both Congresswoman Davis and the chief effortlessly without looking up once, just tapped a few times on the tablet in his hand. "Mr. Stark, Chief Clarke, you remember Miss Thomas. She's the legal representative of New York Downtown Hospital" His eyebrows were pulled up high but his gaze was firmly on the device in his hand. "Mr. Stark. You are taking son out of the hospital against medical advice."

The lady from social services shuffled uncomfortably out of her seat at last, seemingly terrified that she would have to get involved. She stood, eyes wide and frantically moving between the police chief, Mr. Stark and Peter. "I'm sorry, but the... erm... the boy... I... I need—"

"Thank you, Miss Muller." The hospital-lady Miss Thomas seemed positively thrilled that she could address someone in the room that wasn't Mr. Stark or Clarke. "The... erm..." She cleared her throat and pulled out the stamped document Miss Potts had walked in with earlier. "The order from the court stands and Mr. Parker that is—" She cleared her throat again, eyes glued to the document. "Mr. Stark—Mr. Aiden Elliot Stark, is to be released into his father's care to await his hearing. Your services are no longer required on this case, Miss Hall."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. He held onto Mr. Stark as tightly as he dared. Would he really get to leave? Did they really manage to get him out with his secret still safe? The social worker didn't put up much of a fight. Visibly relieved that she would no longer be caught up in this mess, she awkwardly shuffled around the men between her and the door and ran from the room.

"What the fuck, lady!" The vein on Clarke's forehead was positively ready to pop. "You can't just—"

"Actually, we can, Sir." Miss Thomas cleared her throat. "You have no arrest warrant and the question of the boy's guardian has been definitely proven. The hospital's protocol in this case is clear and the NYPD has vowed to abide by said protocol."

Doctor Abrahams' eyebrows had moved even further up his forehead. "Right." Two more taps on his tablet. "Mr. Stark, you need to sign here."

Miss Potts... Pepper. Pepper was the first one to move among the people left. She stepped up to the doctor and took the tablet from his hands. The expression on his face was somewhere between bored and annoyed.

"This has to be signed by a _guardian_."

Peter's pulse was throbbing in his throat. His eyes shifted to Mr. Stark who still held onto his hand, his grip strong but far from unpleasant. They would let him leave. They would actually let him leave. His breathing picked up and he tried hard to swallow down the sob that was building in his throat. The chief stepped forward, trying to intervene but stopped himself from actually laying a hand on either of them. Pepper had distinctly put herself between Clarke and Mr. Stark, holding the tablet up for Mr. Stark to sign his name. The doctor's eyes shifted from Peter's wrists to his neck but he was pulled out of the stare as Pepper pressed the device back into his hands.

"Speedy recovery to you, young man." A sharp nod in Mr. Stark's direction and Doctor Abrahams turned and before he had even left the room, Mr. Stark's attention was back on him.

"Come on, buddy." He could feel the intensity of the man's stare on his very skin. His mentor's stare, former mentor's, now... now guardian's? Father's. Just the thought made him all dizzy. Not that his head wasn't spinning already with overstimulated senses. But none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was getting out of the hospital, away from the authorities. All that mattered was the pressure of the man's other hand on his shoulder that tethered Peter to reality. Light pressure increasing, suggesting that Peter should get up now. The sense of relief that was slowly but steadily engulfing Peter was entirely missing from the man's posture though, his face drawn in concern. "Just sit up for now."

"We're not done here, Stark. This will have consequences." The chief turned sharply to the door at last, pulling his man with him.

"You can bet that this will have consequences, Clarke!" Mr. Stark called after him. As the door fell shut with a bang, the man's voice turned low and soft again. "One step at a time, Pete. Just focus on one step at a time."

Tears burned in his eyes as Mr. Stark used his name. The familiarity had an intense wave of comfort rush through him followed by confusion and doubt. Was he no longer going to be Peter Parker? What would happen with him now? And what would happen to May?

"I... can I... where is May, Mr. Stark? Please, can I just—"

"Shhh," the man's hand patted his shoulder. "Just get up for me for now, alright? One thing at a time."

"Please... please, she... I need to see her, I—"

"Kid, you're close to passing out or jumping out of your skin, I can't quite tell but..." The man's voice was low, only for Peter to hear, but firm nonetheless. "But you know why. We need to get you out of here first. She'd want you safe, you know that."

"But—"

"No more arguing."

Peter bit the insides of his cheeks to suppress the sob that was working its way up his throat, tears trailing down his cheeks. Unable to really nod with the thick bandage around his neck he just lowered his eyes in defeat. His body was like jello, his senses made his skin prickle and there was a deep strong jab of fresh pain as his shoulders left the bed, muscles in his back and neck contracting as he tried to sit up. Mr. Stark had a point. He'd have a hard time getting out of there as it was.

"I got you, bud. Just turn, get your legs off the—there you go. You're alright." Mr. Stark's hand was pushing him up, taking some of the pressure off his muscles. "Can you walk, kid? I can... If you want me to, I can—"

"No." Peter looked up at him. "I can... I can do it."

He was going to be fine. Spider-Man didn't need to be carried! He could... he could deal with a little pain. He could walk out of there on his own. Mr. Stark's hand steadied him underneath his elbow, providing enough of a push for Peter to stand up. As soon as he was upright, Mr. Stark's other arm snaked around him and held him there, supporting Peter's weight. He did have him, held him close to his side. Peter's legs were steady like that, or at least steady enough. Pepper had rushed forward to support him from his other side. Behind her, Congresswoman Davis was the only one still left in the room, still watching them.

"Mr. Stark," the woman stepped forward. "Can I just say that—"

The look the man gave her shut her up immediately. "No. You can't. Get out of the way."

Peter kept his focus on the floor in front of him, away from anyone they could meet on the way. The walk to the elevator felt incredibly long. Mr. Stark made him stop a couple of times when his breathing got too labored.

"Just give it a moment, kid. You're shaking."

Pepper was right next to them, then looked up and down the hallway. "Let me see if I can find a wheelchair somewhere."

"No..." Peter leaned on Mr. Stark for a moment then made a point to put more of his weight on his own feet. "I... I'm good."

Mr. Stark's hold on him tightened. "Kid, you're really not. We can—"

"I'm good. I'm... I'm good. Let's just... let's just go." It wasn't physical exhaustion that drained him, not even the pain. It was the hospital itself, everyone around them. He needed to get out, get away from all that. Even though the corridor was empty, he could hear it all. The sounds, the lights, all the people in the rooms down the hall. As the elevator doors closed and sealed them off from the outside world, Peter could breathe a little easier, stand a little firmer on his feet. The lights were still too bright and made his head swim but the low clutter of the elevator's chains as it was moving downstairs was easier to drown out than the many voices in the rooms around them.

"Tony, that's the lobby," Pepper whispered. "We should go through the basement, use one of the backdoors."

Mr. Stark shook his head. "We can't go there."

"It will be quieter, less people. I had them send another car."

The man just gave his head another shake. "Pep, just hold him tight for a moment."

The strong arms around Peter loosened. It was like someone was pulling the ground out from underneath him.

"Mr... Mr. Stark?"

"It's alright, Pete. I'm just gonna put my jacket around you, alright?" Just as he said it, Mr. Stark carefully settled his suit jacket on Peter's shoulders, then pulled it up high to cover his head. "We gotta go out the front, buddy."

"Wh-what?" Peter's eyes shot over to him.

"Tony, are you—"

"They have Barnes in the basement." Peter's heart fluttered at the name, but Mr. Stark had his arm back around him, held him close again. "But they also need to see you, see that you're with me. They need to see you were hurt. We need the press on our side. The people."

"But... but then... then they'll all know!" The thought made Peter's stomach turn. They'd all know the most personal thing about him. Something he didn't even understand himself.

"They already do, buddy." Mr. Stark's grip tightened on his torso. "It's already everywhere. Might as well make it work in our favor."

Peter's heart skipped a few beats. "They... they know? They know? Oh... oh god, they-?"

"Shhh, buddy, it... just trust me, alright? Can you trust me?"

His hands were clinging so close to the man in front of him now, he was sure to leave bruises even with one of his arms useless by comparison but he just couldn't help himself. "I..." Peter wanted to nod, to confirm that of course, he would trust him, but he was just so terrified. Every fiber in his body revolted against the idea of everyone knowing something so intimate about his life.

Mr. Stark shared a look with Pepper and at his nod, she got a little closer, held him tight. Peter closed his eyes and leaned into both of them. Mr. Stark had said he'd get him out and he had, they were just about to walk out of there. "I do... I do trust you, Sir."

Miss Potts shifted next to him and it had Peter's eyes flutter open. There was a look on her face he couldn't quite read. Surprise or... or shock?

"Come on then, buddy." Mr. Stark pulled him along, made his legs work by what seemed to be sheer will of force. "Let's get you out of here."

When they made it to the end of lobby, dread swept over Peter. A short glance up ahead revealed a whole crowd out people outside of the hospital. Even through the doors, the chatter of the paparazzi, reporters, and onlookers echoed into the front hall. Peter's hand shot up, held tightly onto Mr. Stark's arm.

"I... I can't... please... please, I—"

"It's alright." Mr. Stark turned to him and pulled him close, his arms wrapped around Peter. "It's just a few steps. I'm right next to you. I'm right here."

Peter buried his face in the fabric of the man's shirt.

"You know what to do, kid. Just focus on me. Block everything else out. They are not important, alright? I got you."

He nodded into Mr. Stark's chest, neck burning with pain, let the man's heartbeat fill his ears and numb everything else. Mr. Stark patted down the jacket that was still wrapped around Peter, pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses and pushed them carefully onto Peter's face. He still had his arms wrapped around Mr. Stark and the man didn't even try to untangle himself. He just slung his own arms closely around Peter and they followed behind Pepper, heading for the exit.

Noise washed over Peter like a herd of wild elephants. He tried to focus on one thing, control his senses, control himself, like Mr. Stark had said, his arms still around his torso, his face pressed into the man's side. Mr. Stark had one arm wrapped around him, the other rested on the back of Peter's head, holding the jacket in place that shielded Peter somewhat from the crowd, making things a little easier for his oversensitive senses. The man's heartbeat was so different, not as rhythmic, almost erratic but strong and loud and Peter tried to just focus on that, eyes shut close, but the commotion around them was too much, breaking through that barricade he tried to put up. His instincts screamed at him to run or to fight, to protect himself and his people. He turned his head just enough to see where they were going. Miss Potts was in front of them, leading the way. There were a few huge men around them as well, blocking off the worst of the onslaught but still hands reached for him, cameras and microphones were pushed in their direction. People screamed Mr. Stark's name, his own name and they called out for Aiden to look at them. It was too much. All Peter could do was retreat back into the safety of Mr. Stark's arms, hoping it would be over fast.

Someone pulled at his arm, trying to detangle it from Mr. Stark and he only held on tighter, pulled himself closer. Then hands rubbed up and down that same arm and Mr. Stark's voice rang in his ears.

"Come on, kid. You gotta let go. Just get in the car, come on."

Peter did look up at that, first at the man he still clung to, then up ahead where Miss Potts—Pepper. Where Pepper was waiting in the car. It was her hand that was rubbing up and down his arm and he reached for it as soon as his brain made the connection. She pulled him inside and Mr. Stark's hand on the back of his head made sure he got in safely. Everything happened faster than Peter could keep track of things but it was as if he could finally breathe again when the door of the car slammed shut behind Mr. Stark.

"You alright? Hey, Pete, look at me."

Every cell in his body was aching, his head was swimming with all the voices, all the noises, the pushing and shoving.

"'m alright," he tried to say, but it came out more garbled than intended.

He needed his brain to slow down, his senses to mellow but even the tinted windows couldn't filter out the camera flashes to a degree that would stop that throbbing in his head. He should be able to ignore them. He just had to concentrate, but the ache in his bones, the way his skin was burning. It was all too much.

They were pushed into the seats as the car sped away. Pepper's hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder but even that was almost too much for him to bear now. "Tony, what are you doing?"

"It's gonna be alright, Pete." Mr. Stark's hands were on him, different than Ms. Potts', not as light but with more conviction, steadying him. Peter was still buried beneath the man's jacket, trying to shield himself from at least some of the sensory input, when Mr. Stark pulled on Peter's arm. "I need you to let go for a moment, alright? I'll be quick. You'll feel better right away." Mr. Stark tried to loosen the fingers of his left hand from where they clawed into the jacket's fabric. "Just stretch out your arm, buddy."

He listened. He did as he was told and stretched out his arm for Mr. Stark, biting his tongue as pain shot through his upper body from the movement, then carefully squinted past the fabric at what was happening. Only then did he register the syringe in Mr. Stark's hand. With a flash, the mental images from that warehouse and that basement came back to him, the needles that were rammed into his neck and before he could even think, he had already ripped his arm out of Mr. Stark's reach, scooting away on the backseat, he bumped into Miss Potts right next to him. She let out a surprised shriek but caught him before he could fall forward into the back of the passenger's seat.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I should have—" Mr. Stark had thrown both hands up in the air. "It's fine. It's from Helen. Remember? Like she gave you at the Compound? It's gonna help with the pain and with your senses." He eyed him, eyebrows knitted together closely, a hand open and careful extending towards Peter. "Come on, it'll make you feel so much better, kid."

Peter hesitated. He shouldn't. There was a reason why he couldn't allow that. "For... for the pain? The Widow, she said... she said I can't because... she said..."

Mr. Stark leaned in closer to him now, his hand gripped Peter's thigh and that helped, tethered him back to earth. "It's just gonna make you a bit loopy. You'll get a bit tired. But it'll help."

He frowned. He was supposed to stay alert. "It's... it's okay now? She... I have to... to pay attention, be... be on guard for... for..."

Mr. Stark's eyes were squarely on him. He could feel them on him even more than the hand that held him steady. "You're with us now, buddy. We're gonna take care of everything. You're safe with us, alright?"

Of course. Yes, of course he would be. They had gotten him out, out of the reach of the officers, who had despised him. The thought of painlessness made him want to cry again, wondering if he had ever stopped since they left the hospital room. Mr. Stark's hand left his leg and took hold of Peter's hand instead, guiding him closer. He was right of course, now it didn't matter if he passed out and couldn't really defend himself. He was safe with them, of course he was. Peter flinched as the needle pierced his skin. He had completely forgotten to look away, but it wasn't too bad. It didn't burn or anything. It was more like cool liquid that spread through his veins and into his every cell. It numbed him, not just the pain but also his senses.

"Better?" Mr. Stark asked and Peter just nodded, one of his hands shot up to his neck on instinct and he flinched at the still persistent pain but there was no denying that he felt better already. He let himself carefully sink back into the seat. Yes. Yes, he already felt a little numb, but in a good way. Things would be fine now.

"They will be, buddy. You'll be just fine."

Peter frowned. Had he said that out loud? He looked up and found Mr. Stark looking down at him, the expression on his face so soft, it made Peter feel like a little boy again. Not in a bad way though, in a protected, cared for kind of way. One of the man's hands still held Peter's, the other came up and combed the hair out of his face, took the glasses off him that Peter had completely forgotten about. The man's thumb slowly ran along Peter's hairline, down to his temple. It felt good. Great actually. His eyes fell shut, his strung-out body and mind finally finding some relief. Only the backseat of the car felt weird, unnatural. He couldn't find a way to comfortably sit, shuffled back and forth until Mr. Stark's arm pulled him in. Peter's head settled down against Mr. Stark, came to rest on his collarbone and the man's arms pulled him close, held him tightly against him. Peter's own limbs just hung down like a puppet's, strings cut off. There was something nestling into his hair. It took him a moment until he recognized what it was, Mr. Stark's breath on his skin. The man's own head was resting against Peter's.

"I'm so sorry, buddy." Mr. Stark's voice was low but very close to his ear. "I should have never left you. I was such a fool."

Peter's eyes were still closed and he leaned into the man's body, shuffled as close as he could.

"Shh, you're safe now, kid. Nobody's gonna touch you, alright? I got you."

Peter nodded along, or at least he intended to. There was no telling if his body listened to anything he told it to do.

"I know... I know I keep saying that and still, you end up—" The man cut himself off with a low curse.

He wanted to say something. Tell Mr. Stark how he couldn't have known that Barnes would come after him, but words were a distant illusion. His body wasn't cooperating and his brain was drifting off. He tried to fight it at first but the strong beat of Mr. Stark's heart though still a little different than it had been in the past was lulling him under. Peter didn't want to fight anymore, hated being on guard all the time. He just wanted to let things be, to trust that he was safe.

He was woken up by some shaky movements and at first, his thoughts went to a bumpy country road. Where they outside the city? But when he opened his eyes he found himself in someone's arms. He looked up to make sure that the strong arms that held him close were indeed Mr. Stark's. That's when he registered that those shaky movements came from the fact that Mr. Stark was walking, carrying Peter along with him. Peter let his head fall back against the man's shoulder and looked around them. Where were they even going? As he turned his eyes forward into the direction Mr. Stark was heading, he almost jerked out of the man's arms.

"Shh, hey, it's alright, kid. You're alright."

No. What was happening? His breath was uncomfortably thick in his throat. A gurney and people in white coats were waiting at the elevator.

"It's okay. We're at the Tower. Helen and her team are gonna quickly check that the hospital didn't miss anything. Make sure you're taken care of. She'll know better than those doctors, right? She knows how to help you."

Peter relaxed a bit at that, not that he could have done much about it. His vision was blacking out around the edges again already. His mind drifted off before they even reached the medical team.

* * *

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_[author's note: Thank you guys for the great response to the last chapter. As always I thoroughly enjoyed your reactions and theories! Next chapter should be coming along soon, possibly this weekend.]_


	59. No More Secrets - Chapter 59

**Chapter 59 - No More Secrets**

Night had fallen outside of the Tower but the city lights were shining up all the way to the 67th floor. He had FRIDAY dim the windows along with the overhead lighting just enough that he could see the boy next to him. Eyes closed, the kid's face still twitched from time to in sleep but he did look a lot better, a lot more peaceful at least, his body relaxed. Helen's drug was still doing wonders.

Tony couldn't help but look up from his tablet every so often to make sure that the boy was still there. There was nothing he could do about everything that had happened to his kid, but he would never forgive himself for his own part in all of it. All he could do now, was to try and do better. Not to _try_, to just_ do_ better, no other option acceptable. He tore his eyes away from the kid, back to the documents on the tablet in front of him.

The trail was smudged and it was hard to read everyone's intentions from the little knowledge he had gathered so far. Obi... Obi was simple. Grim Reaper. Just as straight forward. HYDRA, bad guy. Next. It was Clarke that he was hung up on, what the bastard had known and when. Tony would need to know more about the dude because only then could he decided on a plan of attack. He'd need one, a detailed one, had to secure all his bases before he made a move.

The door to the kid's room was pushed open. He didn't even have to look. There was only one person FRIDAY wouldn't announce.

"Hey..." Pepper came up behind him, running her hands over his shoulders, softly trying to coax the tension out of his back. "How about some food, honey? You haven't really—"

"I'm good."

She swallowed hard, making an obvious effort to keep her voice level and soft. "You're not good and that's okay, but you still—"

"I'm not going anywhere, Pep."

"I know, that's not—" She blew out a deep breath. "I'll bring you something. Something hot maybe? I can—"

"Pep, just stop, I—"

She couldn't hold in a low groan any longer. "You're not—"

He shot up from his seat and led her away from the bed, back to the door only to remember that it likely wouldn't help if the kid were to wake up. Maybe the boy's senses would still be dulled enough so he couldn't hear them from across the room, but with Tony's luck, that sense would just fine.

"I know you're worried, Pep. I get it, but I don't have time for any of this right now. As long as they're out there and I don't know how all of this is connected, I can't protect him. Any of us, really."

"It's Clarke, right? He... he knows." She was wringing her hands, clearly agitated. "Is he... is he HYDRA as well? Did you find out if—"

"Shh, I don't..." Tony sighed, a quick look over his shoulder, making sure the boy's eyes were still closed. "I don't think so but he does know something. He has to. We... We'll talk about this later."

Pepper's eyes flickered to the bed, then back to Tony. "He's going to be okay. He looks a lot better already and—"

"As long as these assholes are out there, he won't be. The way they treated him and I don't even know if Clarke knows the worst of it or if all this is just because of the kid's connection to me. If they—"

"Honey." Her hands grabbed both his arms, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You need to eat. You need sleep. You can't take care of him if you don't take care of yourself." She pressed her lips shut, her eyes pleading. "At least let me take care of you, please."

His feet shuffled back and forth, unable to stay still.

Pepper pulled him a little closer, eyes not leaving his face. "I know you're scared. I know all of this is impossible, but they can't touch us, not while we're at the Tower or the Compound. They have nothing on us. Ad—" She gave her head a little shake. "Peter will need you when he wakes up. You'll have to be all here for him."

"I am!" Tony twitched, almost reached up to push her hands off him. "I am here, I'm doing everything I can to—"

"Not if you're strung out with no sleep or food. Have you thought about what you'll tell him? About what will happen to him now? His aunt and—"

He did take a step back then, jaw set. "None of that will even matter if he's not safe. If I don't know what Clarke will do or... or Ross even. With Barnes and Rogers involved, he'll turn up, too. What if they come up with charges after all? Make him take the stand or something. I'm trying to protect him!"

"I know. I know we need to figure all that out, but he needs more from you than that and you can't evade that. I see what you're doing. This is not just about his abilities and what they might do, Tony, it's about why all this is happening, who he is. About what you are to each other."

He waved her off. "I will. I will talk to him. It's just right now—"

"You can't ignore this! He's not just your intern anymore, Tony."

It took all the little control he still had for him to keep his voice down. "You think I don't know that?"

"For god's sake, he still calls you _'Mr. Stark'_. 'Sir' even!"

"What do you want me to do about that? Make him call me daddy?" He avoided her eyes. She wasn't all that wrong and he hated that most. The was a vibe about it, a vibe that stank of his own father, but the alternative... He closed his eyes, deep breath. He was losing the little hold that he had on himself.

Pepper just quietly studied him. He could tell without even checking. "How about we start with _'Tony'_?"

"I don't— I can't have him—" He bit his lip, effectively cutting himself off. Just the thought made his stomach turn. It was petty and such an obscure detail to be hung up about, but he couldn't get over it. The thought that his _son_ would call him anything but— His eyes were on the back wall, staring at the white surface. He hated this. He hated everything about this.

"Honey..." She did step closer then, a hand on his arm, but Tony couldn't meet her eyes, head hanging low with equal part sadness and embarrassment to blame for it.

"None of that matter's right now, Pep."

"It matter's to you," she whispered.

"It..." He shook his head. "It doesn't, it... at least it shouldn't. It's inconsequential. The only thing that matters right now is to be sure that he's safe from them."

He had to keep his tone in check, his voice was too loud, too harsh. His mind was spiraling with all the worst-case scenarios that could have happened, of what had almost happened because Tony hadn't been there to protect him. He had stayed in the kid's room ever since they had brought him up here for Helen's check-up. They had tried to make him leave but he wasn't having any of that. Not this time. He wasn't going to let Peter out of his sight. The kid's neck was a mess. If he had left at any point, that would have been it. It had been the worst part to stomach when Helen had peeled back the bandage exposing the purple marks and abrasions, the lines of the Soldier's hand clearly imprinted on his boy's skin.

"It's not your well-being versus Addy's, darling. Those are not the only two choices."

He swallowed hard, frustration with everything they had to go through still pervasive in his very core.

"How about..." She got a little closer, her hand finding his. "How about this. We put our old deal back in place. Indefinitely."

His lungs deflated with a big exhale. "Our old deal? Which one of the two thousand four hundred—"

"The big one." Her eyes were firmly on him. "The one were you let me help you. The one where instead of self-destructing, instead of doing it all yourself, you talk to me and you let me help. The one were I get to make sure you're okay so you can take care of everything else."

He tilted his head away from her. "Right. That one."

She pulled him a little closer. "Yeah. That one. The one were you don't get to feel like you're my job or something. The one were you accept my help because I love you."

He did lean into her at that, her lips firmly pressed to the side of his face.

"When he wakes up, you need to tell him, Tony. He trusts you. You can't lie to him."

Pepper's voice was low. Just to be sure Tony shot another look over to the bed, but the kid was still asleep. He leaned in closer to her.

"Not right now," he whispered.

Not today, not right away. The kid had been through too much. He didn't need to worry about what his aunt and uncle had done. Identity theft, possible fraudulent falsification of official government documents. He didn't need to worry about how long his aunt might go to jail for her part. And he didn't need to deal with all those secrets that had almost killed him. Twice.

"He has to find out anyway," Pepper sighed. "It will be all over the press and if he finds out that you keep this from him, that you knew..."

"He's just gonna find some twisted way to blame himself for all this. He needs to rest, to recover. Fucking Barnes tried to kill him."

Pepper shook her head, eyes intent on him. "If he's anything like you which I have a feeling that he absolutely is, then he's going to do that anyway. He's been lied to for so long by so many people. People that he trusted. You can't be one of them. At least if you tell him, you can be there for him. If you tell him, you're not gonna feel like shit for keeping him in the dark."

Tony groaned. It wasn't all that simple. "It's not like that. It's not like I want to lie to him, it's... it's not that easy."

"You're lying to me?"

Tony froze. Both him and Pepper turned around. Peter's eyes were open.

Great. He sent Pepper a look that hopefully conveyed that he was gonna blame her for this. The kid's breathing was still labored and he couldn't seem to open his eyes all the way yet, lids falling shut in regular long blinking motions.

"What... what are you lying about?" The sound of his voice gave Tony chills. It was still weak, a little hoarse from all the strain that had been put on it. "You said... You said you wouldn't lie to me. You... you promised."

Tony had to bite the inside of his cheeks not to curse. It only took a few hurried steps and he was next to the boy, could sit back down in the chair by his bed that he hadn't left for the last few hours. Not until Pepper had come in for a talk.

"I'm not lying to you, buddy. It's... it's just... it's just a secret. We did say secrets were okay. We agreed."

"You... you said no bending the truth, you said to be honest."

"Shh, how's your head? How's the pain?"

"Tell me," Peter croaked. "Please."

Tony shook his head. The kid couldn't even keep his eyes all the way open. This wasn't the time. "You don't need to worry about this. You don't need to worry about anything right now, alright? Just... just get some of your strength back and then—"

"Please. What... what's going on? I... I can—"

To Tony's horror, the kid was moving, maneuvering his arms and started to press himself into a sitting position. "Buddy, don't!"

Tony practically jumped to his feet, his hands on the boy's shoulders, he slowly pushed him back into the covers with very little effort. The drugs were still in his system then, still soothing the kid's body otherwise Tony's efforts would have been useless. The expression on Peter's face spoke volumes, a mixture of pain and hurt. Betrayal. He too had realized that he was too weak to resist. Tony sat down on the bed rubbing the boy's right arm in what he hoped was a comforting fashion.

"Do you know where you are, kid? Remember what happened?"

The kid's eyes wandered down to his bandaged left arm, his wrists. They lingered there, wheels in his head clearly turning. His face twitched as some of the details seemed to come back to him. He swallowed, then screwed up his face. One of his hands shot up and carefully touched the thick compress around his neck.

"You're okay, buddy. You're safe," Tony whispered but the kid wouldn't look at him.

"Is May..." he gulped, his voice thin. "She's dead, isn't she? That's why you didn't want me to—"

"No." Tony frowned and reached for his hand now, squeezed it in both of his. "No, kid. She's at the hospital. She's... she got hurt, yes, but... she'll heal, alright?"

Peter's lashes fluttered and the low sob that worked its way out of the boy's throat sent chills through Tony's body.

"Barnes?" Peter asked next.

Tony squeezed his hand again and shook his head. "Not dead either." Not like he cared much about that one. But it meant that Peter hadn't killed the soldier. Tony could find relief in the kid not having to live with that burden, self-defense or not. He looked up at Tony at last, eyelashes wet with unshed tears.

"I... I don't understand. Why? What... what did I do? Why did he—"

"Nothing, buddy." It physically pained him to see the kid like this. "There's... there's nothing you did that caused this."

"Just tell me... please. I can't with... with everyone lying, I... please."

Pepper stepped closer to the bed. Her hand came to rest between Tony's shoulder blades. He hated her for bringing this up, for the kid overhearing. And he loved her for she was still there, right next to him.

"Nobody is dead, Pete. Barnes is in police custody, or rather the government's." He took a deep breath before he looked right at Peter and continued. "It's a couple of things. One is about your aunt, buddy. It's..." He tightened his hold on Peter's hand as the kid's face distorted in fear. "Shh, it's alright. She's not in any... in any imminent danger."

Tony grimaced and was quick to shift one of his hands back to the boy's shoulder as Peter made to sit up in his bed once more. He didn't push him down, just helped him settle. "Don't, just... just calm down, kid. It's nothing like that, alright? It's more of a legal thing with you... well, with... with your adoption and there..." Tony slowly blew out a deep breath and looked right at the boy. "There are some things to sort out but we can talk about all that in a day or two. You're still not even quite here. Recovering and—"

"I—I'm good, I—"

"You're... buddy, you..." Tony's heart broke a little more from how hard his boy fought to sit up, tried to act all strong and grown-up in the face of yet another battle to face.

"Alright, how about this." Pepper leaned past Tony, one hand on the kid's forehead, then trailed his face down to his cheek. "Tony is right, you need to get your strength back, so I'll get something to eat, for both of you. And some tea. Soup maybe. Dark chocolate helps too, right?"

She gave Tony's shoulder a soft squeeze and made her way to the kitchen, coordinating with FRIDAY on the way.

"Are you... are you really not gonna tell me?" The boy's voice was very low, not just exhaustion but also clear sadness swinging in every word.

"I'm worried about you, kid."

"It's fine. I can... I can deal with it, please, just—"

"You shouldn't have to, Pete. This... none of this—" Tony bit his tongue. The kid wasn't the one he should complain to about this. About how unfair all of this was. How he had never wanted anything like this to happen to him. "Do you... do you remember how a few days ago at the Compound. I asked about your—erm..." Tony pursed his lips and cursed himself for how he still struggled to even say those words out loud. "about your parents. Mary and Richard Parker."

The boy stayed quiet for a moment, eyes still a bit hooded, before he breathed out a low "yes".

"Alright, well, ever since I found out about... about you. About how you... you know, the whole—" Tony looked down at where he was holding Peter's hand. He couldn't even say it out loud, not in front of the kid.

"The whole me-and-Aiden thing," the boy whispered.

"Yeah..." Tony sniffed out a dry sigh. "Yeah, the you-and-Aiden thing."

The kid's eyes flickered to the door, then back down to the sheet. "You don't like it."

"That's not—" He caught a glimpse of how Peter had pulled his lower lip between his teeth, gnawing at it. "You're a clever kid, buddy. You know that none of this is as simple as that. It's the second time within a week that someone threatened your life, almost killed you. More times than I'd like to count that you've been hurt just in the last months. I hate _that_. Hate everything about it, especially the blame that falls on me for it."

The silence in the room seemed to make the fast rhythm of Tony's heartbeat stand out even more. He wanted to be there for Peter to lean on, to comfort his boy, but it was because of him that the kid kept getting in those situations in the first place.

"The blame's always on the bad guys, Mr. Stark." Peter's voice was still low but his eyes met Tony's when he looked up.

Tony blinked a couple of times trying to think of something to say to that. "Maybe you're just a little too clever to be my kid after all, huh?"

If he didn't know any better he could have sworn that the boy rolled his eyes. "That's what you said to me."

Tony did chuckle at that. "Did I?"

"Yeah. You said... you said that all we can do is... is try and help."

"I really do say some clever shit every now and again, don't I..."

The corner's of Peter's mouth twitched before his eyes darted back to the door.

"Pep on her way back?"

He shook his head. "She's fighting with FRIDAY 'bout... about whether chicken soup or beef broth is gonna help more."

"That's Pepper for you." Tony still clasped the kid's hand steadily. "Your senses coming back then?"

The boy nodded, eyes cast down again. "I hate this, too," he whispered.

Tony swallowed hard. "I know you do, buddy."

"Not... not because of you or... or Miss Potts, it's not that at all I—"

"Alright. I... that's okay."

"Is... is it gonna make things worse? That thing about... about my aunt?"

Tony tried out different responses in his head, but then just went for the truth. "Yeah, I think... I think it will. Complicates things. Plus I..." Tony took one deep breath to try and get his damn voice to hold up. "I'm scared for you, buddy. I'm scared what knowing about all that will do to you."

"I... I don't... what do you mean?" Peter's eyes got a little wider. "What is it gonna do?"

His thumb was drawing little circles on the back of the boy's hand. If he could, he'd never burden the boy with this. Ever. But Pepper was right. With May Parker in police custody already, the truth would come out if Tony wanted it to or not. And that soon. It was better that the kid heard it from him, if for nothing else but that Tony could be there to catch him when the worst of the impact would hit.

Tony sucked in a deep breath. He would never be ready for this.

"When I found out about you, the major question really was, how that was possible. How... how Aiden Stark had turned into Peter Parker somewhere along the line and... and we've managed to find out quite a bit more tracing back what has happened to you over the years. To... to Peter Parker."

"O—okay. Yeah, that..." The kid frowned. "Is that what you were doing? When I was in the med wing?"

His head bobbed in a few small nods. "Pepper and I. And Natasha."

Peter blinked a couple of times, then nodded for him to continue.

"Did you know that the Parker's adopted you? Mary and Richard?"

The boy's hand went soft in his, but he didn't pull away, just shook his head not looking at Tony.

"Do you remember that your aunt and uncle, May and Ben, they too had adopted a little boy."

With a couple of seconds delay like he had to make sure he hadn't misheard that, Peter's head shot up. "What?" His eyes were moving back and forth, seemingly searching his memory. "They didn't. I mean, I'd know. I've... I've lived with them for years, they don't."

"A boy about a year and a half older than you. Born..." Tony held on tightly to the kid's hand now, making sure that he would keep him close if he were to freak out. "Born August 10th, 2001. They em... they called him Peter. He was in the car with Mary and Richard the night they died. He... he died that night, too."

There was a wave of goosebumps that had the hair on the boy's arms, probably his whole body, stand up tall. Tony had witnessed that weird reaction of Peter's senses before but it still left him breathless.

"Wh—what?"

"Your... your aunt and uncle did... they told the police that it was Mary and Richard's son who had died with them. They... they did it to protect you, so you wouldn't have to go back to the adoption agency."

The door to the room was pushed open and Pepper entered, carrying a tray with a teapot, a couple of cups and some cookies. She froze when she saw both of them huddled together, the white mask of shock on the kid's face. Without a word, she put down the tray and scooched onto the bed on the other side of the kid. She put one arm around the boy, the other on top of Tony's hand that was still holding Peter's.

"I... I don't understand that..." The boy swallowed hard, then shook his head. "That can't be true. You must be wrong. It's... It has... has to be a misunderstanding. Some... some wires that got crossed and it... it can't! It's impossible!"

Tony let him talk for a bit. Let him get that first knee-jerk reaction out of his system. The denial, the disbelieve. The boy rambled for a bit then looked up at Tony like he could somehow fix this, like he'd be able to turn things back to the way they were, but that was impossible. The kid's reality was going to shift irreversibly with this.

"I went to see your aunt. Last weekend when you were still recovering."

"You... you what?" The kid's breathing was too shallow, close to shifting to hyperventilating. They should have waited like he had wanted to but there was no way back now.

"After we found out about you and about that other boy, I had to."

"You talked to May?" The boy tried to pull away from him, but Tony kept his grip on the kid's hand tight. "But... but you told me she didn't know! You told me she—"

"And she doesn't. She..." The kid was fidgeting and squirming away from Tony. "Buddy, please, you'll hurt your arm... Shh, it's alright. You're—"

"It's not alright," Peter hissed at him. "None... none of this... none of this—"

"I know, buddy. I know this is a lot. I..." Tony sighed, eyes on the kid who had shuffled away far enough to bury his face into Pepper's side instead. Pepper's arm held him steady and reluctantly Tony let go of the boy. His hands grabbed the edge of the mattress instead, knuckles white. He should have waited. He knew that he should have waited to tell him!

"She doesn't know anything about that! And I didn't tell her anything about that either. You think I would have allowed you to stay in her care if she had purposefully kept you from me all these years? I..." He had a hard time keeping a lid on his agitation.

"Hey, honey..." Pepper leaned far enough across the bed for her hand to slip from the boy's back onto Tony's arm. "Just give him a minute."

Deep breaths. Tony nodded. Right. Like a minute would make any of this any better. She let go of Tony's arm and slowly ran her fingers through Peter's hair, murmuring reassurances. He had to look away, down to his hands on the bedsheet, was almost jealous that it was Pepper's support the boy opted for, not his. Silly, of course. Positively childish, but he couldn't help it so he tried to focus on his breathing instead, his pulse, reigned himself in.

Deep breaths helped and as if his vibes directly affected the kid, he slowly uncurled himself, his face a distinct shade of pink.

"S—sorry, I... I'm sorry, I—"

"You still trust me, kid, right?" Tony searched his face for the telltale signs, eyes shifting away, a lip pulled between his teeth, the signs of shame that would so clearly shine in the boy's face if he was trying to talk himself out of something, would try to deflect. If Peter didn't trust him, he'd be in trouble. There was no containing a super-powered teenager without his trust ignoring drastic measures that Tony wouldn't be willing to take.

But the kid's eyes stayed clear and he gave a short nod. "I... I do. I... it's just..." He lowered his eyes after all.

"It's a lot. I know, buddy. You have nothing to apologize for." Pepper had her eyes on him, nodding encouragingly. "We found another birth certificate. The one this agency originally falsified to hide you. That's how we found out that they didn't really hide you as Peter Parker. All I asked her about was the adoption. And... and the accident. The night Mary and Richard Parker died. Along with a boy that wasn't you."

Peter's hands were both lying on top of his stomach now. He didn't look at either one of them, obviously still trying to process what he had just learned. If only that had been the worse of it. Not that it wasn't bad. Bad enough that the kid would be confused and shocked, that much was a given. An accident that happened to kill his cousin when he should have been in that car as well, that was one thing. But it hadn't been an accident. It didn't just _happen_. Maybe they'd be lucky and he would recognize Tony or Stark Industries as the catalyst, blame the family he was born into. Tony would gladly take it all, anything if it meant that the kid wouldn't put the burden on himself.

"So... so she lied? May and... and Ben." Peter shook his head, brow furrowed in thought. "But... but that doesn't matter now, I mean, does it? You..." He blinked a couple of times then looked up at Tony. "I mean, you're not gonna sue my aunt or anything. Mr... Mr. Stark, please, you're not, right?"

Tony did his best not to look away. "It's not really about what I want to do anymore, buddy."

"No, but..." The boy's eyes were wide and wet and firmly set on Tony. "Please, I'll do whatever you want, just... just please don't do that."

"I'm not..." The need to reach for the kid's hand again prickled in his fingertips. "Buddy, I'm not the one—"

"Please, Mr. Stark, please... please don't. I... I'll do whatever you want, please..."

"Kid, it's not—"

"I'll... I'll live here and... and never see her again. I.. I'll do whatever, just please..." Tony's heart broke as the kid frantically looked back and forth between both of them, ready to offer whatever they would ask, ready to sacrifice anything he could think of. "I'll never patrol again, anything... anything you want. Please—"

Tony looked over to Pepper for help but by the look on her face, she was fighting her own heartache just as much as he was.

"Darling, that's not..." Pepper sighed, her hand rubbing up and down the boy's back. "That not how it works. There's very little we can do to stop this. It's the prosecution's decision to file charges for a felony. When... when they moved you across state lines the... the whole kidnapping thing became a federal crime. There's... I'm sorry, there's very little we can do."

"They didn't kidnap me though, they... they didn't! I wanted to be with them! I did! I'll just... I can tell a judge, I promise I wanted to stay with them, they didn't do anything!"

"We know that, buddy." Tony had to hold himself back. Every instinct of his screamed for him to scooch onto the bed and hold the boy close. He'd overwhelm him with his need to ease the pain, but they weren't even done. The kid was already crying, both hands hiding his face and this wasn't even the worse of it.

They tried to give him time, Pepper poured some tea, brought in the soup but none of it would really console the kid. He was so agitated, how could Tony lay on even more? Barnes. The accident. All of that was even worse. He had already talked himself out of telling the boy and having FRIDAY monitor all the media the boy would be exposed to instead. No phone, no tablet, just peace and quiet.

"Tony." It was like Pepper could smell his thoughts. Almost creepy. She had her eyes on him eyebrows raised.

She hadn't even said it all that loud but it was enough to get Peter's attention. He rubbed the back of his hand across his face, looking from Pepper over to him. "There's... there's more?"

Tony shook his head and practically jumped out of the chair. Not that he was going anywhere. There was no way he would be going anywhere at all. Two pairs of eyes were glued to him. Pepper's were pleading with him, silently begging him to keep a lid on things and he was trying. He was. The kid's face was almost blank which was alarming in itself. Peter was incapable of hiding his emotions which meant that rather than a calculated cool glance, he just didn't even know what to feel anymore.

His arms were crossed, held close to his body. Where to even begin? He paced back and forth, just a couple of steps, never straying far from the kid's bed. His hands were curled into fists underneath his arms just so they wouldn't shake. Deep breaths, he nodded to himself, then at last he came to sit on the bed, back turned towards them first, but after another couple of deep breaths, he shifted around, facing the boy.

"You asked about Barnes. Why he targeted you."

Peter's eyes were wide now but he nodded.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes..." Tony shook his head. "He's dead. He has been for 70 odd years. Died in action somewhere in the German alps."

"But..." The kid frowned. "But then, did they... did they revive him?"

"I don't know, buddy." His hand tentatively closed around Peter's again. "I don't know if back in '45 he..." Tony shrugged. "If his heart stopped beating and they brought him back or if they just drugged him up with enough serum that he made it through. I know they tortured him. Kept at it, till they broke him, till there was nothing there to resist them. Till they could condition him, control him. A soldier they could use however they please."

The kid just stared at him, hanging on every word. Somehow it felt important that Peter would understand that the devoted war-hero James Barnes and the Winter Soldier were not the same. There was someone left in that body when the Soldier could be subdued, but that wasn't Sergeant Barnes anymore, he was sure of that.

Tony swallowed hard, tightening his hold on Peter's hand. "You remember what happened in Siberia? What... what I found out about how my parents really died."

The boy looked at him in a mixture of shame and barely suppressed interest. "Yeah. Yeah, I remember."

"They didn't die in an accident." Deep breath. "They were murdered and someone made it look like an accident."

"R—right."

Like a coward, Tony had secretly hoped that the clue would have been enough. That he wouldn't have to say it, but the boy's big eyes blinked at him uncomprehendingly. "Buddy, your... your parents. What happened that night was no accident." Another beat of silence for the kid to understand, but Peter just looked at him, eyes narrowed in utter confusion, like he was supposed to decipher a secret code. "I... At the time, in 2008 I was believed to have died in Afghanistan. That was... I was targeted because of my company. Because my business partner wasn't really into the partnership idea anymore. It's... He's the one who set up your... well, you know, Aiden's kidnapping. When he thought I was dead, he hired HYDRA to finish the job. To kill you."

Peter's eyes weren't on him anymore. There were low, staring at the sheets. "But I wasn't killed," he whispered, seemingly emotionally detached.

"No, buddy. But they thought you were."

"They killed my parents instead and... and that other boy."

Pepper's hand came to rest on Tony's arm, her face solemn, her warmth working wonders for him. "Yeah, buddy. I'm sorry."

"Does... does May know?" The kid looked up at him at last. "That they... that they died because of me."

"Kid, you know that this is not—"

"Does she know?"

Tony insides seized at the desperate tone in the boy's voice. "No, buddy. She doesn't know anything about that. Nobody even knows about Stane's involvement, that he paid for the hit on me. Just us and... and a couple of SHIELD people. Nobody knows about this except us and, well, the Rogues."

"Please..." The kid sucked in a deep breath, unsuccessful in pulling himself together, his voice vibrating with emotion. "Please don't tell her. Please!"

It was the last straw. Tony shuffled close enough so he could pull the kid into his arms. Peter didn't resist, on the contrary, he leaned into him, his arms holding onto him for dear life. Over and over Peter begged them not to tell his aunt. As much as Tony wanted to ease his mind, it wasn't a promise he was likely going to be able to keep, so he didn't make it in the first place. Things would come out now. The way he and Pepper had connected the dots it was likely that others would follow the trail as well. With the Soldier in custody, there would be a criminal trial looming and Tony would have to decide if revealing the secrets he knew, it the chance that it might sway a jury to get Barnes into a facility, to get him help instead of a windowless room in the Raft was worth the emotional toll it would have on his kid when all of this would unravel publicly.

Tony leaned back against the bed's headboard, arms still tightly wrapped around the boy, who had his face pressed into the fabric of Tony's shirt, hiding his desperate tears. Neither of them made any attempt to leave. Pepper stayed just as close, taking turns in consoling Peter and lend her support to Tony. It didn't take too long for exhaustion to overpower the kid. He fell quiet after half an hour, then stilled even further, his eyes closed in sleep.

_**"Boss,"**_ FRIDAY's voice rang quietly through the room. _**"Colonel Rhodes is requesting access to the penthouse."**_

Tony's eyes shot up at Pepper, but she only shook her head. "Don't look at me, I didn't tell him. I was with you this whole time."

He whispered a low cruse. He should have anticipated this. What had happened in Queens had been all over the internet. Aiden's name was all over the internet. So was Peter's. Before long, Rhodey would be the least of Tony's worries.

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[author's note: Guys, thank you for reading! Thank you for the comments and your enthusiasm for the story. It makes writing it even more fun! :)]


	60. What's In A Name - Chapter 60

**Chapter 60 - What's In A Name**

The light was dimmed as Tony stepped into the living room of the penthouse. It made Rhodey's entrance almost blindingly bright as the door to the elevator opened up. He didn't lose a second, headed straight for Tony.

"What's going on?" His face was drenched in sweat. If Tony didn't know any better he might have made a joke about whether Rhodey had jogged to the Tower, but that would be so inappropriate on more than one level.

"Little late for a run, platypus."

"Cut the bullshit!" His fast steps echoed off the high walls of the penthouse. "What the fuck is going on?"

"It's fine." It was. It was fine, but then why were his hands still shaking? Hadn't stopped since that morning. "We're all good. It's just—"

"What happened? I tried to call. I tried to reach you for days, what... the press, they say... They say you—" He stopped himself just in front of Tony, eyes wide but lips suddenly shy. "They say you found him." His voice had dropped into a low rasp. "They... they say you have Aiden."

"I..." Tony swallowed hard, careful not to look away from his friend. "I do. I... I found him."

Rhodey was frozen only inches away him, his eyes wide. It was almost painful to watch how his face changed from disbelieve to confusion and then to something else. Something Tony knew all too well from every single time he looked at his boy himself. Every time he just thought of all these years they had failed to find him.

Guilt. Plain and simple.

Rhodey's lips worked soundlessly for a moment. There was a path to acceptance that Tony couldn't help him with. Acceptance, if you could call it that. The reality washing over him would take a lot longer than just this conversation to really sink in. Would need days, or maybe weeks. Hell, Tony hadn't come out at the other end of it himself after all.

"He... he's alive? He... you... you found him?"

"Yeah." Tony's own voice was just as breathless.

"But... when? How? Is he... where... where is he? Is he alright? Is—"

Tony put a hand on his arm, effectively stopping him. "He's... he's here. At the Tower. He... he's okay. I mean, bit... bit banged up, bit... bit shaken up. It's... it's been a long day." A long week really but he still had to be careful how much of the full picture he could let slip in front of Rhodey. This wasn't over yet.

Rhodey blinked a couple of times, his mouth still open in shock. "He's... he's alive. He's here."

Tony nodded, squeezing his friend's arm tightly. "Yeah. Yeah, he's alive."

"You...huh..." The corners of Rhodey's mouth twitched. "You found him." His lips pulled wider, into a smile and he let out a bark that almost startled Tony. "You found him!"

"I... yeah." Tony couldn't help it, he couldn't help but let the joy that suddenly filled Rhodey's face infect his own. "I guess I... I found him."

Before he had a chance to stall himself, Rhodey threw his arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. "Oh my god, Tony. You found him. I... I can't believe you found him."

His knees were weak. There was nothing he wanted more than just tell Rhodey everything, put everything on the table and lean on him for help. It was selfish, disregarding the risk it would put Rhodey at with his superiors.

"You found him, you... you were right. All this time." Rhodey's voice was muffled by his shirt, but his words hit Tony with all their intensity nonetheless. "He was out there all this time and you... shit, Tony, only you could have pulled this off. Fuck. Shit, I... I'll never doubt that you're right again. Ever! Holy shit, Aiden's alive!"

The arms around him squeezed him tight, so tightly he couldn't speak. No, that was a lie. It wasn't Rhodey's hug that cut off his air and made it impossible for him to utter a single word. It was the lump in his throat. The lump that was growing and growing, had started as soon as Rhodey had pulled him in, when his eyes had started to sting. Tony was breathing through his mouth, fast breaths, shallow, even though he tried to make them deep and calm. He clung to his friend, grasping for some resemblance of composure but downright failing.

"Hey... hey, it's okay, Tones. It's... shit, man, it's okay."

He nodded into Rhodey's shoulder, trying to tell himself that it was. Trying to tell himself that it was a win, that the impossible had come true but he couldn't ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that his kid _had_ been out there all his time and that he had well and truly failed for years, that all his efforts had been inadequate, too little, just not enough. That after all, he hadn't _found_ the boy. He had stumbled upon him. Sheer dumb luck, no finesse or skill whatsoever.

"Shhh, it's... you're okay. It's all good. He's safe now."

Tony pushed himself off his friend at that, rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes ignoring the concerned look on Rhodey's face. "I erm... we... we need to talk."

"What's wrong? You... you just said he's okay! Is he not? Is he— shit." Rhodey shook his head, the braces on his legs humming as he stepped from one leg to the other. "Of course he's not. How can he be. What... what do you need? What can I do?"

Tony's throat was so dry, it hurt when he tried to swallow the fat lump in his throat, sent a cold shiver down his spine. "I... I don't know how to ask you this, I—" He blew out a long breath.

"Tony, you can ask anything of me." Rhodey's eyes searched for his. "I'm here. What do you need?"

"It's... I..." He hated himself for how pathetic he sounded even to himself. This wouldn't do. It just wouldn't be good enough. "I want to tell you, but I don't know how without putting you in the line of fire. I—"

Rhodey grabbed his arm keeping him steady, almost as if he had to make sure that Tony wouldn't run off. "Who's fire?"

"Any of them. All of them."

"Tony..."

"Ross. Clarke. HYDRA, I—"

"HYDRA? Ross? What the—"

"Mostly... mostly Ross." He looked up at his friend at last and found his face as determined as ever. "Right... right now, I think, mostly Ross."

"Well, fuck Ross!" Rhodey's eyes wouldn't leave his face, determined to not let him get away with anything but the truth. "Tell me."

"Listen, if they court-martial you—"

His hands physically pulled Tony away from that thought, a little closer to his face. "If they_ were_ to court-martial me I'll add it to the _list _of things they will never hear a peep about, not from me. Tony, never from me."

"Rhodey—"

"I don't give a fuck about them."

Tony shook off his hand off his arm, his lips pursed. "Yes, you do." His feet wouldn't keep still any longer, his shaking knees pushing him to pace up and down just so he wouldn't crumble on the spot. "This is your life we're talking about. Your career. It would ruin—"

"I don't give a fuck about my career. Not as long as the whole system is subverted by crooks and self-serving lunatics. That's not what I joined for."

His voice was strong, full of conviction but he couldn't know what level of secrecy they were talking about.

"Tony, whatever you need. Whatever Addy needs, just fucking tell me!"

Not for a second did Tony doubt that Rhodey would put himself on the line for him, as well as for the kid and that was part of the problem. Not the problem, the... the danger. The risk. But Tony was quickly running out of other options besides relying on his friend, for Peter. For Aiden.

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#

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Peter's eyes were still heavy when the door to his room quietly clicked shut. His back turned, he didn't see who walked in but it had to be Mr. Stark for Miss Potts, Pepper, was lying next to him, one hand wrapped around his own, arm entangled with his, sleeping soundlessly.

"It's 3 am, buddy. You should be sleeping." His voice was low and soft.

Abandoning all pretense, Peter maneuvered his hand out of Pepper's grip and shuffled around until he faced the chair that the man had let himself fall back into. "You're up."

Mr. Stark shrugged. "Someone has to be."

Despite the wisecrack that he had anticipated, Peter huffed out a low breath. That was a mistake. It made his throat burn, which seemed to show on his face.

"Hey..." Mr. Stark's hand came to rest on the side of his face, a settling, grounding weight. "The meds have worn off completely, haven't they?"

"It's... it's fine."

"It's not fine when you're in pain, Pete."

Peter lowered his eyes, tried to look anywhere but the man in front of him wasn't having it.

"You don't have to put on a brave face, kid. Not with me, never with me, alright? I get that you don't like the side effects, that it must feel strange, but it's just for a few days, just till you're healed. You're safe here. You don't have to suffer through the pain."

"I'm... it's okay. I'm just... just a bit light-headed. And... and like you said, it's just for a few more days."

"Kid—"

"I don't want it!" He regretted raising his voice not just cause it stung in his throat but because Miss Potts was now stirring behind him. "I... I want to see my aunt. Please..."

Mr. Stark blew out a long breath and when Peter chanced a glance at the man, his eyes were not on him, but on the ground, unfocused.

"Please, Mr. Stark. Please, let me see her."

"It's not like I'm keeping you—" His mouth clapped shut and the man just shook his head. "How is that supposed to work right now, buddy? Do you want to go back to the hospital?"

"I... I don't know, I—"

"We can't circumvent the NYPD. They're still there."

"But... but you did. For me you did, I just—"

Mr. Stark bit his lip, not looking at him. "That was different. I'm not letting you anywhere near them. _You_ don't want to be anywhere near them!"

"Please... please, I just... I need to see her. I need... I need to explain, to apologize, I—"

"Apologize for what exactly?"

The man's voice rang sharp. Peter could feel his eyes on him now, unblinking, but couldn't find the nerve to meet them. It was impossible to explain, not to anyone, least of all to Mr. Stark.

"Kid, look at me."

His eyes closed, he wished for his heart rate to slow down, for the bright dots dancing in front of his eyes to go away, but they just wouldn't. Reluctantly, he braced himself and looked up at the man in front of him.

"You didn't do anything wrong." There was a tremor in Mr. Stark's voice, fighting for control. "None of this is on you, not in any way."

Deep breaths, Peter looked away. "I don't want to fight with you."

Mr. Stark's face melted into a soft frown. "I know, buddy."

"She's... she's all alone, I... please... please, Mr. Stark..."

The man cleared his throat, his voice just a soft rumble. "When you're healed. We'll think of something when you're healed. Or... well, little after you're healed, I mean, I guess we could still keep the bandages on or there might be suspicions. We should really, just to be sure."

That wasn't good enough. A spark of hope, but not good enough. "Please, will you help her? I know you can. You're the only who that can."

"Hey... Pete, look at me." Mr. Stark waited until Peter finally looked up at him. "I will. I promise that I will. I promise I will always do everything I can so you're safe and happy. Everything."

Safe and happy. He couldn't hold the man's stare, had to look away. _Safe_ and happy. He knew what that was code for. A promise to sacrifice everything if it meant keeping him safe. Mr. Stark had already proven his determination when it came to that after all. That was what his whole thing about leaving had been about. Safety. Or whatever illusion of safety he could conjure up. Peter's lips were pressed together tightly, desperate not to let that sob escape that was growing in his throat. Not just for the vanity of it either. It would hurt and he was so over that. He just wanted to feel normal again.

"I'll call for Helen." Mr. Stark's eyes were still searching his face, still studying him. "That okay?"

"It's..." He tried to breathe through the stinging pain in his upper body, only elevated by his desperation, this bottomless feeling of uselessness, that somehow brought out the low throbbing in his arm as well. That threatened to just intensify with every waking minute. "You just said it's... it's 3 am."

The man didn't bat an eye. "Your point?"

Peter didn't really have a point, other than that the Doctor Cho was probably sleeping and waking her, waiting till she got there just cause he was in a little... in some pain... But Mr. Stark knew all that. He knew and he didn't care and there was something about his brazen disregard of everyone else just so Peter would feel less... well, just feel less really, that was... that was foreboding for what he would do about helping May. What he _wouldn't_ do, as soon as it would even seem to affect Peter. His safety.

Mr. Stark's eyebrows twitched a bit closer together. "You okay with her giving you another dose of the pain meds, buddy?"

Peter couldn't deny that it would make him feel better. He could do that. Just one more dose till he felt better. A deep breath, then Peter nodded. "Yeah..." His voice was rough, he could feel it as much as hear it.

A short nod in response, the weight of Mr. Stark's hand ghosting over his shoulder. "FRI?"

She didn't respond, but the ceiling light pulsed a bit brighter for just a moment and with that Mr. Stark pulled the chair a little closer. His hand settled on Peter's, the pressure not too strong but constant. To Peter's surprise, it took only a few minutes for Doctor Cho to quietly push the door open and advance towards them. The lights raised just enough for her to find her footing, she checked in with him. She didn't touch the bandages but checked some reflexes on his arm.

"Progress on your arm is good. Really good." She lightly pinched the skin on the back of his hand, then frowned as his skin took its time to flatten out again. "You need to drink more. You're healing fast but it's draining you."

Mr. Stark rose out of his chair at that, his hand came to rest on Peter's head. "He said he felt light-headed."

"I'm... I'm okay."

"Shhh, you will be, buddy." The man's hand softly ran through his hair.

Helen Cho nodded, then crouched down to be on Peter's eye level. "You might be healing fast and that is great news, but you remember what I told you about the cradle? How it takes a lot of energy out of your body to heal up those wounds?"

Peter's eyes flicker over to Mr. Stark then back to her and he gave a small nod.

"Even if you heal fast, the energy your body needs remains the same, might even increase due to the speed your body works at. Only, it needs to come up with that energy in just a few days when it would take someone without your healing factor a few weeks to recover. It's why you feel so weak. You were still recovering from the... the injuries you sustained from the—" She bit her lip, but didn't look away. "From the men that took you." Her eyes were searching his face for a reaction but he just pushed the images from that warehouse, the basement room away that were still lurking in his sub-conscience. No need for those demons, Peter had plenty to obsess about from what had happened less than a day ago. "You need rest and you need sustenance."

The mattress moved behind him. "I can... I can get some more things. I... damn it, I should have thought of that, something more than just soup, I—"

Doctor Cho looked over at Miss Potts instead now. "You are doing your best, Pepper, and that's all anyone can ask right now. We're all figuring out the basic parameter for how to best help your boy as we go along."

Peter ducked his head into the pillow, painfully aware how many people were kept awake and busy because of him.

"Hey..." Doctor Cho blew out a long breath, then reached for his lower arm to get his attention. "You're okay. You will be okay, we're just trying to make you as comfortable as we can, okay? How is your appetite? Do you want to eat?"

The thought of anything solid going down his throat made Peter want to retch. Doctor Cho tapped the back of his wrist, slowly nodding when he looked up.

"That's okay. We'll put in an IV. Right here. That way you can rest and don't need to worry about any of that." The doctor then turned to Mr. Stark instead. "We'll keep it peripheral. I think with a drip during the rest of the night his appetite might even be back by morning."

Peter's gaze had shifted along with the Doctor's and he found the man's eyes still steady on him. "You alright, buddy?"

He wasn't deluded enough to think that Mr. Stark was asking for his permission, well aware that his medical treatment didn't depend on his own consent, but on his guardian's. The man's hand was still in his hair, running through it back and forth across Peter's skull. "Those aren't too bad. I had one of those just last month. Beats a feeding tube being stuck down your throat I can tell you that. Those things are just wretched not just when they go in but—"

"Tony!" Pepper's voice sounded far from amused but Peter couldn't help but feel a little better at the man's familiar babble.

Mr. Stark winked at him in his signature fashion. "Alright then. You'll feel better in no time, buddy."

As Doctor Cho pulled out the syringe, Peter had to remind himself of what Mr. Stark had said before. Of his promise to keep him safe but it didn't help much with the trembling of his arm as the doctor pressed the needle into his skin till it pierced it and went straight into his vein. Mr. Stark held his hand through all of it, unwavering in his focus. Just the same, Peter could sense Pepper right behind him, one hand slowly, gently rubbing up and down between his shoulder blades. It seemed to be all that, their care, their attentiveness and warmth that made him settle down, much more than Doctor Cho's drugs. He didn't even feel the canola being fitter to the back of his right hand as the chilly wave traveled through his veins, clouding all the pain. His eyes all of a sudden too heavy to pry open for much longer, he gave in and slipped into a peaceful sleep.

There was no telling how long he slept. When he woke up, the room had a distinctly different feel to it. He didn't even have to open his eyes to tell. The space in the bed next to him was empty, no warmth radiating from Miss Potts any longer, but the chair next to his bed wasn't empty. It made his heart skip a beat though, when realization hit that it wasn't Mr. Stark who was occupying the chair.

His mind was flushed with scenarios of everything that could have happened while he had been dead to the world in his dreamless slumber. But Mr. Stark wouldn't let anything like that happen, would he? No, Peter was sure that before anyone could get to them in the Tower, the man would have suited up, flying them out of the country to some lonely island in the Caribbean that he undoubtedly owned.

Ready to face whatever would await him on this new day, Peter's eyes fluttered open, but he sure hadn't been as prepared as he had thought.

"Good morning."

It took him a moment, a couple of deep breaths to respond. "He—hello."

Even if it hadn't been for the braces he had seen Mr. Stark design, hell, the braces he had helped him to work on, the man in the chair next to his bed was unmistakable Colonel James Rhodes.

The door flew open faster than Peter could arrange his thoughts and Pepper Potts rushed into the room, eyes only on him, like the Avenger in his room was a totally normal occurrence.

"Good morning, darling." Her hand brushed the hair out of his face and there was undeniable heat rising to his cheeks from the easy affection she displayed in front of the Colonel. Peter shot a quick look at the man in the chair next to his bed. There was a bit of a scowl flickering across his face. The buzzing of Miss Potts' watch brought Peter's focus back to her but she - Pepper - she didn't seem to even notice the vibrations on her wrist. "Did you sleep okay? Anything you need?"

"I was literally right here." Rhodes spoke loud enough for both of them to hear but his voice clearly swung with an annoyed connotation, like he was being ignored by both of them.

Pepper only shook her head, oblivious to the man's comment, her eyes never leaving Peter's face. "How are you feeling, darling? Any pain? Hungry maybe?"

"I'm... I'm fine." And he was, actually. He felt quite well, no queasy stomach, no bright spots dancing in front of his eyes. A quick glance to his hand confirmed that the nutrient drip was still firmly lodged under his skin.

"Yeah? No pain? Helen's just downstairs, I can—"

"Really, I'm fine."

"I didn't leave, you know." Rhodes leaning forward trying to catch Pepper's eye. "Didn't move once. I mean, what do you think was gonna happen?"

She waved a hand in his general direction. "No food then? You sure? Something to drink? Some tea? FRIDAY, tea!"

"I... Pepper, I promise I really feel okay."

She froze for only a split second, then pulled her lips into a smile while her hand silenced the vibration that still radiated from her watch in fairly regular intervals.

"This is Aruba all over again! I had everything totally under control."

She turned sharply, her long hair whipping around with her. "Don't you bring up Aruba to me! Like I would forget Aruba! It's not for any lack of trying either I can tell you that!"

If Peter hadn't been lost in what was going on before, he certainly was now. It was like they had their own private code, designed to keep everyone else in the dark.

The corners of Rhodes' mouth were pulled down, his arms crossed in front of himself as he looked up at her, not amused.

Pepper just sighed, her shoulders pulled up high as she sucked in the breath then falling almost like she was in the middle of a breathing exercise. "Don't look at me like that, I told him that he should call you."

Peter's eyes flickered back and forth between them. His pulse was fluttering a little faster than before. It seemed obvious that Colonel Rhodes knew something, but... how much?

"Easy for you to say when he did call you."

The Colonel's voice was low and for a short moment, Peter thought that maybe they hadn't told their friend about the whole Spider-Man angle. That maybe he didn't know about the enhanced senses, Peter's heightened hearing, all that. But when he saw the look on Miss Potts' face it was clear that the man hadn't spoken low enough. That she had heard him just fine as well and that the drop of his voice was more for show than any real attempt to hide his words.

She blinked a couple of times, avoiding Peter's eyes. "Just... can we not do this right now?" She pulled in a deep breath and slowly blew it out, probably to calm herself, but it came out all shaky. Nevertheless, she looked up at Peter, the smile on her lips that surely was meant to be encouraging was a little too crooked, clearly stained with uncertainty. "You need to get your strength back, darling. You know what Helen said. You just let me know whenever you feel ready, okay? Some food, anything you fancy, okay? Anything."

Once more it almost overwhelmed him how genuine her affection rang. He found himself leaning into her touch, as her hand ran through his hair, calming movements, a vibe that just felt like home. Just like it had that morning he had woken in the Compound's med wing. When she had been there by his side, crying but radiating nothing but warmth and comfort. He didn't know Rhodes, didn't know much about their relationship, only that they were supposed to be friends. Only what he had overheard cowering on the ceiling of Mr. Stark's room in the med wing. Where was Rhodes coming off talking to her like that? Like Mr. Stark's secrecy was her fault?

"He didn't even call her."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself and just when Pepper's face went slack, her eyes growing round and wide did he realize that maybe, maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut. The silence in the room was heavy, stretching into an uncomfortably long pause.

"Wait..." The Colonel shook his head. "Wait, what did you just say?"

"It doesn't matter." Her eyes were still on Peter's face, her voice strained. Then she cleared her throat. Her hand didn't pull back from Peter, she just turned her head a bit more towards the Colonel, her tone a lot more even than before. "It doesn't matter right now, okay? I know. You know. It doesn't—"

"He didn't tell you? He didn't tell _you_?"

Her gaze was glued to Peter's bed sheet and Peter just couldn't help himself. "It was the Widow."

"Nat?" The man's face was blank, momentarily speechless.

Pepper's other hand found Peter's lower arm and squeezed him lightly.

"It's... it's what happened. The Widow told me it was her who made the call. It's not your fault that Mr. Stark—"

"Shh, it... it's okay." Her eyes blinked shut for just a moment. "He was still figuring things out. It was... it was just Tony working through what... what didn't seem possible."

Rhodes got out of his chair. "He should have told you! I can't... I can't believe he wouldn't—"

She shook her head and pushed herself upright, facing the Colonel only the hand in Peter's hair remaining. "He didn't _keep_ anything from me. He was overwhelmed with what was happening which is why Natasha called me in the first place. He's doing the best he can. You know why he didn't want to tell you. Don't tell me I have to explain Tony to you."

The man huffed out a shallow breath. "No, of course. I know... I know."

She turned back to Peter, kneeled down next to his bed so she was on his eye level. "I know we're supposed to at least pretend like we have it all figured out and we're trying. I promise you, darling, we're trying to do the best we can. I know none of this is easy and I know... I know it's a lot for you. It's not easy for any of us either. But we're trying, okay? Tony is trying to make things right for you. We talked about this, remember?"

Peter nodded and again, those vibrations on her wrist pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Seriously, Pep. Just go and take care of that," the Colonel gestured in her general direction. "We'll be good."

Her eyes were narrowed on her watch before she slightly turned towards the Colonel. They stared at each other for just a moment before she bent down to Peter, her face soft.

"I'm just down the hall, okay?" She pressed her lips onto Peter's hair, held him close for a moment. "If you need anything—"

"If he needs anything I'm right here." Rhodes head dipped to the side a bit. "Just like I have been all morning."

Peter bit the inside of his cheek but nodded. "It's fine. I... I'm fine."

She squeezed his arm again, doubt still distinctly radiating off her. There was no denying that Peter's stomach turned a little when she got up and headed for the door. He wasn't scared, nothing like that. What was the worst that could happen? Colonel Rhodes was one of Mr. Stark's best friends, he knew that. He had seen them together in Germany, their camaraderie. Mr. Stark had talked about the man more than once. What should happen? If only Peter's definition of safety and of what he could trust to happen hadn't been turned on its head completely in just about a week.

He had just walked to the Tower like he had done again and again for months on end. What could go wrong? He was just having breakfast with his aunt, what was the worst that could happen?

He was being silly. Nothing would happen to him at the Tower. He peaked up at the Colonel as the door fell shut behind Miss Potts. The man was studying him, looking him up and down, but even with the weird mood between the two grown-ups, there was no threat there, no animosity. Even with Peter's senses still a bit numb from the meds, he could tell that much.

"Well, okay then..." Rhodes clasped his own hands and awkwardly stepped from one foot to the other, the braces whirring along with his movement. "So, you know, if you like... want anything. Food. A drink. I mean, not a drink, just... just something to drink, I..." He cleared his throat. "I mean, I'm here."

"O—Okay, yeah. I... erm... thanks." Peter didn't look at him, his eyes on the back of his hand where the IV was still firmly attached to him. He didn't even know if he needed to eat, or should eat. He wasn't particularly hungry anyway.

"Hey, listen, I—" The man stopped himself, lips pressed tightly onto each other as he studied him, then blew out a sigh and sat back down. "Okay, this is super awkward. I don't even really know what to call you."

Peter blinked a couple of times, then shot a glance in his direction, trying to follow. "To... to call me?"

"Yeah, there seem to be a few options floating around."

"I... I don't know, I... I really don't mind, it's not..." He looked away, down to his hands. He had no answer for that. How would he know what to pick? His name - or rather what he thought his name was, had apparently belonged to someone else before him - or the other name that had been his so many years ago. But that wasn't _him_ either, was it? A distant memory kept alive with nothing more than some home videos.

Colonel Rhodes cleared his throat. "It's just that I don't think that Pepper's 'darling' cop-out is going to work all that well for me."

That made Peter look up. He hadn't really thought of that, but it made so much sense. Miss Potts hardly ever used his name, neither did Mr. Stark. Not to his face anyway. Though he did know what they called him when they thought he couldn't hear.

"You know, it's fine by me if you want to stick with Peter. Nobody is going to—"

"No." He shook his head, voice stronger than he thought himself capable. He couldn't, that name wasn't his to take. It felt wrong and dirty after he had stolen so much from that other boy already.

"Okay, that... that's okay." The colonel leaned in a bit more, just stopped himself from reaching out it seemed. "How about... shit, I mean, shoot." The man closed his eyes in resigned frustration. "Just... something that makes you feel good? That feels comfortable?"

Peter kept biting the same spot on his lip and it really started to sting. How pathetic was this? He had lost everything, didn't even know what his name was anymore. Well, legally it seemed quite clear, but, no. Just, no!

"You— It's fine if you don't know right now, that's okay." The man's voice turned soft, so full of understanding, he still wasn't used to that level of attention by someone like the colonel. "How about... how about we start with me?"

Peter frowned and shot a glance over at the man. "With... with you?"

"Yeah, I mean, Tony and Pepper, I mean, I guess you know that, right? Maybe?" He shrugged. "Well, they call me Rhodey and you can call me that if you want. Or... or James or..." He stopped, his eyes a little unfocused

Peter couldn't help but wonder what the man was thinking about, maybe about what Aiden used to call him. He wrecked his brain to remember any interactions from the videos he had seen but nothing came to mind. He had been in them alright, but it had been Mr. Stark and also Pepper that Peter had focused on when watching those videos. That family unit that seemed to tight-knit even though he knew now that things had been a little more complicated than that.

Truly, that seemed to be the overlying theme of everything he encountered in his life, past as well as present. Complications, secrets, things that were different than they had seemed. All those secrets. Their reluctance to give any of them up.

"What happened on Aruba?" He only glanced at the man from underneath his lashes, not sure if he was going too far.

The colonel huffed out a low grunt and waved off the question. "Nothing. That's the point. Nothing happened, just..." He sighed, then fell silent, lost in his thoughts for a few moments. "I guess, looking back, well..." He shrugged, then looked up at Peter. "It's ancient history. They thought you were gone but you were with me. It's... nothing happened."

Silence fell between them once more, both of them lost in their thoughts. Peter wondered if that awkwardness would ever really go away. If there would come a time when he would feel like none of the strangeness of all this, of how he spoke to them, what he called them. A time when all these things would seem so trivial and just natural. He couldn't even really remember how that had happened between him and Mr. Stark. How long and often he had seen the man until things just seemed comfortable enough that he could forget about the fame and all that.

"Mr... Mr. Stark, he... he calls me Pete. Not... not always, he uses a lot of different, he—" Peter stopped himself.

The Colonel was quiet for a moment, then swallowed hard. "Yeah, he's quite creative in that department, isn't he."

It felt redundant to nod in agreement, so Peter didn't, still a little lost in his own thoughts.

"Hey, Pete..."

His eyes shot up at the man next to him, lip still painfully caught between his teeth.

"Well, seems to work, hm?"

He couldn't help but shyly grin at that, nodded. Yeah, it did. It kind of brought him back to those days in the lab when it had just been him and Mr. Stark, some crime-fighting on the side but none of all this complicated drama. Back when the only thing he really had to worry about was not letting slip how many hours he really was spending at the Tower with his mentor. Mr. Stark...

"Where... where is he? Mr. Stark, he... he said he wasn't going to leave, but..." Peter swallowed hard, but he had.

He wasn't there, not in the penthouse at least. He was almost entirely sure that if the man had been in the Tower when he woke up, he'd have rushed to the room, just like Miss Pepper had. Peter hadn't heard him around the penthouse, not like Pepper as she had walked around before settling in the office at the end of the hallway. It was always possible that the medication was messing with his senses but it felt like something was missing. Peter was sure that he would have known if Mr. Stark had been around. There was a small possibility that the man was on the level below them, working in the lab. Researching. The walls of the lab were too thick for Peter to tell, but no. He'd be there by now, he was sure.

"Tony had a couple of errands to run."

"Errands?" Peter's heart skipped a beat. "Did he... did he go..." Please. Hope, he could practically touch it. "Did he go to the hospital?"

The colonel's face was passive, almost calculating. "Among other things."

"He went to see May?"

"Yes." The man's expression showed clear discomfort with the idea, but Peter couldn't care less. Mr. Stark had gone to see May, just like he had asked. That had to be why he was there, right? He went to help her. He just had to have gone to help her.

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_[author's note: guys, I have been so sloppy responding to your awesome reactions and comments, but I promise, I'll catch up... at some point ;) I hope you do know that I absolutely get a kick out of every freak-out and theory and praise you leave. Thank you so much for that! :)_

_Next chapter will be up in the next couple of days I think.]_


	61. For the Greater Good - Chapter 61

**Chapter 61 - For the Greater Good**

The suit was necessary, he knew that. This wasn't the time to look like he was losing it. Not when there was still a chance that he could run into someone. Even though the sun hadn't even risen yet, hospitals famously ran on a different schedule. There was always someone around and all he could do was be hopeful that Natasha was right, that the time was right and that he wasn't spotted. There was a chance though, a chance that someone would see him, even if it was just a patient or even a nurse at the end of a long night shift. This was the time to look like the authority figure he had tried to sell to the public for years, decades really. Without the tie, he would have looked like a hippy wannabe, so it wasn't negotiable, but he couldn't deny how that slim band of fabric stoked the flames of his deep seated anxiety. It pressed the collar of his shirt so tightly around his neck, he had to resort to mental exercises to draw his thoughts out of their current downward spiral. Whenever he felt the fabric brush against his skin he couldn't help but picture the bruises the Soldier had left on his son's throat. The long thick lines on his skin that had been bright red at first plain to see in that viral video and had turned into an array of blue and purple by the time Helen had examined the injury at the Tower, a perfect imprint of the Soldier's hand who had tried to squeeze the life out of the boy.

His watch vibrated with an inaudible buzz. It was time. Head held high, thoughts of the boy's state pushed to the back of his mind, he pushed open the door that led him out of the staircase he had just climbed all the way up onto the 7th floor. A short glance to either side confirmed that the hallway was empty. His pace was fast just on the brink of looking too hurried. 729. On his left. That's what Natasha had said.

"Mr. Stark," she croaked, eyelids almost closed.

"Mrs. Parker." He pulled the chair closer to her bed and sat down next to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Where is Peter?" The oxygen tubes blocking her nose made her voice sound off. His eyes lingered on the bandage around the woman's neck for just a moment. "Is he... He got shot and nobody... nobody wants to... wants to tell me anything it—"

She stopped herself, fighting against her emotions.

"He's at the Tower. He's going to be fine. He's safe."

"Is... is he really? God, is he okay?"

"He really is. He's receiving the best care money can buy, I promise you that."

She dabbed away the tears running down her cheeks with a shaky hand.

"You're in police custody, do you know that?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. "The officer constantly standing in front of... of my door is a bit of a statement." She looked up at him. "You told them then? About the switch."

"No."

He held her gaze. He didn't even know why he wanted her to know that he had kept his word. Tony had every reason to turn her in. Every reason to want her to pay, to blame her for keeping his son hidden like she had. The Parker's, all of them, had financed a criminal organization that trafficked children. Had supported an operation that facilitated this whole mess in the first place. Who cared if she and her husband had been desperate for a child? Or Richard and Mary Parker... Who cared if they knew the extend of the underlying criminality or not? They sure had known that it was dodgy.

But she had also kept his son safe after she had lost her own and then her husband. Prevented Peter from falling back into the hands of those people with all the legal threats that came with that, at the possible expense of her own freedom. Had cared for him. Had loved the boy with all her heart.

He did believe that. That she was sincere when it came to the kid.

And it hadn't been her fault that Aiden had been taken in the first place. It didn't redeem her, but it was an argument in her favor. That and of course the fact that Peter, that his son wanted nothing more than for her to be safe.

"But you told him. He... he knows."

"I didn't. Not about your role in any of this at least..." Tony blew out a shallow breath to keep a grip on his emotions. "Not until yesterday."

Her wet eyes were on him, unblinking. "Don't... don't lie now, Mr. Stark. You... you kept him all... all weekend and... and then he camehome and he knew. Started... started asking questions."

He pushed down the anger bubbling in his chest. He hadn't buried that all that deep anyway. He was sick of people thinking he was a liar, people blaming him, judged him. People like May Parker who had lived a lie for years. Fucking Steve Rogers. Even... worst of all... his boy who would keep too many secrets from him, went out and did what Tony had explicitly told him not to do. He was still so mad at him, mad that he would go out the after Rogers, not just once.

Two deep breath. This wasn't the time. None of that mattered until the kid was truly safe. It didn't matter how mad he was, all that was important now, was that he could keep his boy safe.

"Between the two of us, I seem to be the only one without a tenancy of lying. He found out that he was adopted. He knew that you were lying to him, kept him in the dark for years. All I did was connect some of the dots."

She turned her face away from him, not even bothering to hide her tears now. Tony refused to feel sorry for her. If the Parker's had filed a report he could have had his son back on his arms for years. Years. He might have never had to go through any of this, might have never even had to deal with that mutation and would have just lead a normal teenage life, away from Super Soldiers and trigger-happy police departments. She had made her bed and— He swallowed the frustrated groan that was threatening to escape him. Arms tightly wrapped around himself, he couldn't deny that he would hesitate to lie and break the law, not a second if it would keep the kid safe. He already had, exchanging that DNA sample.

She had to find out the truth at some point. It might as well be from him.

"They ran Peter's prints after... after what happened at your apartment. They figured things out from there."

"Wh—what? His... his fingerprints? But... but why?" She shook her head. "No, that... That's impossible. His prints... they aren't in the system. He was never arrested. He never left the country. They wouldn't... We made sure that there was nothing that... We made sure—"

"The first time he left the country was when he was 2 months old."

May Parker's eyes went wide, then she shook her head. "That's... that's not true, they... they told us—"

"I know because I was the one who took him." Tony leaned away from her, back against the chair, arms still crossed in front of him. "I had a presentation in Toronto that couldn't be rescheduled and I wasn't going to leave him so I took him. I did the whole shebang, fingerprints, passport, retina scan, Pepper just about stopped me from putting a microchip tracker on him." He shrugged. "Biggest regret of my life."

"I..." she frowned and slowly tilted her head from one side to the other. "I don't understand."

"Peter is my son. He was kidnapped when he was 2 years old and then trafficked across the country where they falsified his birth certificate and sold him to your brother-in-law, hiding him in plain sight."

Her eyes were glued to him, unblinking. There wasn't much color in her face to begin with, but the last bit of it drained away completely, leaving her white as a sheet.

"You're lying."

"No, Mrs. Parker." He shook his head. "I'm not. The hospital ran a DNA test just yesterday." From a sample he had planted to be fair, but that was besides the point. Between his own tests and the fingerprints, there was no doubt.

Her breathing hitched and she struggled to sit up. "You can't... you can't do this. Why are you doing this?"

Tony stood up and put a hand on her shoulder, an effort to settle her down. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Please... please, don't do this. You can't... you can't take him away from me. He's all... He's everything I have left. Please, I—"

"Alright, calm down." Tony shot a glance in the direction of the door but everything seemed to be quiet outside. Natasha had given him 15 minutes and time was running out. "The only reason I'm here is for him. He wants you safe and for him, I'll try to help."

"Please, please don't—"

"May, listen to me. You are in serious trouble with the authorities. Between identity theft charges and abduction of a child under 16 across state lines you're looking at something between 7 years and a life sentence."

Her mouth gaped as wide as her eyes now. She didn't even bother to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

Tony kept his voice low, his eyes intent on her. "You cannot speak to them without a lawyer. I will... I will make sure that you have legal representation."

May blinked at him, then shook her head. "Why... why would you do that?"

He stepped back from her, took a couple of moments to breathe. Why indeed? He could get her that, a life sentence. If he would lean into the kidnapping. Maybe with the possibility of parole but still... Even just a considerable amount of years could buy him time with his kid, time that had been stolen away. He wasn't ready to share the boy, would never stop despising the bond she had formed with his kid just because she had been there when it should have been Tony who was supposed to talk the boy down for a bad dream, to hold him when he fell and to praise him, celebrate him when he succeeded. All that was supposed to be his, his boy, his life. At his worst, the devotion the kid had for her was nothing more than a living reminder of what Tony had lost.

If he put everything on the table and testified against her, he was sure that he could effectively maneuver her out of their lives.

Physically. No point in humoring himself with the idea. May Parker would never be out of their lives, always a dark shadow that would loom and spread between him and his kid. Helping her was his only option. And still...

"I get your reasons, why you did it. Kept him hidden, I do. I..." Tony pressed his lips close then decided on the honest truth. "I would do a lot worse to keep him safe and I do believe that you wanted to keep him safe."

One of her hands covered her face and Tony could only watch her fall to pieces. This wasn't ideal and he would have preferred to do this another way, possibly in a lawyer's office with a specialist and possibly a trauma expert present but this wasn't over yet. There were still a lot of risks that he had to shield his own family from and May Parker was lucky enough that her destiny affected his son's happiness.

"Mrs. Parker. Listen to me." He waited till she looked back up at him, eyes red with shed tears. "There is a lot at stake here. I know you don't like me. I get that. I'm not your biggest fan either." Her face twitched but he couldn't get hung up on sparing her feelings right now. "All I care about is the boy. He wants me to help you so that's what I'll do."

"You... you will never... never buy Peter's affection." Her voice was hard, crumbling face non-withstanding. "Never. He's too smart, he'll see... see right though you!"

Two deep breaths. She was desperate. Of course she was. She was losing everything and if she hadn't realized it before, she sure knew it now. He shouldn't take it personally, but who was he kidding. After everything was said and done, the woman had still kept his little boy hidden away for years. The bit of patience he had with her was fading quickly.

"I don't have to buy his affection. I already earned it."

A couple of quick tabs on his phone and he pulled up one of the videos of Peter's arrest. Even with the volume off, he couldn't handle to watch these assholes put their hands on his kid again.

"What... what is this?"

He kept his gaze firmly on May Parker's face instead, her eyes wide as she stared at the projection. "He went after the man that attacked you. He shot him and they arrested him for it."

"I..." Her face was void of anything but shock. "Shot? He... he shot... but... oh... oh god..."

"They pushed him around, threatened him, had him tied to a hospital bed for hours. Hurt him. He trusts me because I'm the one that got him out of there. Like I have done before." Tony dropped his arm and shut down the projection along with it. "When Clarke shows up here and wants to cut a deal with you, when he shows up here and spins you tales of freedom and how you and Peter could just go back to how things were before if you only help the police, remember what they did to him. And know that Clarke is lying through his teeth. That they don't give a fuck about what happens to the boy. Or to you. You're just pawns to him."

He could only hope that was true. That the boy was just a pawn for Clarke, but as the plot thickened Tony was more and more certain that Clarke new something. That he wouldn't hesitate to go after the kid, no matter Tony's involvement.

None of that he could discuss with her. Not in that hospital room, maybe not ever, but he had said his piece and his time was up. The officer in charge of watching May Parker's hospital room would be back at his post any moment. The consequences of being found now would be negligible but he'd rather avoid the confrontation. The press. He'd need control over how this story unfolded for the public. Being overseen with her would not be to either of their benefit.

She didn't look at him so he cleared his throat, aiming for a little more softness in his voice. "He's worried about you. He wants to see you and... and we'll figure out how we can make that happen."

"I hate you." Her voice was low but distinct, the tone on the side of miserable more so than venomous.

"I know." He gave a small nod. "I'll send my legal team. Take it or leave it."

With that, he turned away from her, no looking back, and stole out of the room back towards the staircase. His heart was beating in his throat, his steps echoed louder than he liked. He didn't stop until the door to the stairwell had fallen shut behind him, then he froze, listened for any sign of someone that could have followed him, but there was only silence. He waited a beat, two, three. Nothing. He was in the clear.

No alerts had popped up on his phone, no calls, no warnings from Nat. Now, he just had to hope that May Parker was not too vain to accept the help he was offering. That she would swallow her pride for the kid's sake, just like he had done. And if she didn't, well... then she didn't.

It was on the second level while he was mentally going through his exit strategy from the hospital that the shadow to his right all of a sudden moved. He almost jumped out of his skin, his pulse hammering away like a freight train.

"Holy fucking mother of shit, are you trying to fucking kill me?"

"Keep your voice down, would you?" Natasha pulled him with her into the tiny alcove she had just appeared from.

"Jesus, Nat." He was ringing for air like he had just sprinted for his life.

"Don't be so dramatic!"

"What the hell are you thinking?"

She crossed her arms. "I'm thinking that I won't get out of here any time soon. It's faster to catch up in person but we can't be seen together can we..."

"Right." He shook his head, still focused on getting his breathing under control.

"How'd it go?"

Tony blew out a huff. "Peachy."

"How much did you tell her?"

"Just what she needed to know. That he's my son. That the authorities know what she did." He shrugged. "That we'll provide legal assistance if she wants it."

Natasha's eyebrows rose. "If she wants it?"

"Can't force it on her, can I?"

"You're willing to pay for her lawyer? That's..."

"Generous?"

"I was going for suspicious."

He looked away from her, down to his phone, checking for any messages. "Well, it is what it is."

"The kid asked you to?"

He met her eyes head-on. "Stop analyzing me."

"Yeah, I thought so." Natasha tipped her head to the side, her mouth pulled into a crooked pout. "She not gonna get off, you know that. The facts are pretty straight forward. Can't just blame it all on the dead husband."

"I know that," Tony pressed out through gritted teeth.

She waited another beat, lips pressed together tightly. "Don't make him any promises."

"I'm not."

"Tony..."

"I am not!" The doubtful look on her face annoyed him to no end. "I told him I'd try to help and I will."

"He looks up to you, Tony. He'll think you helping her will mean her going free."

"Come on..."

"Come on what? He looks at you like you hung the fucking moon."

It was too damn narrow in that alcove. His legs were twitching to get away. "I told him there's nothing we can do if they prosecute. That it's out of our hands."

"Was that before or after you told him you'd help her?"

He crossed his arms, held them close to his body, and turned away from her. He'd been clear to the kid. He'd told him all that. "He's smart. He knows—"

"Tony, he's still a kid. He's smart, yes, he's also exhausted and overwhelmed because he's just a boy."

His eyes closed in resignation, he rubbed a hand over his face. This whole thing was such a damn minefield. Whenever it seemed that he dodged one thing, three new obstacles just popped up out of fucking nowhere. "Fine, I... I'll talk to him. I'll explain, again."

The best he could at least. He'd deal with it, but later. May Parker was not his first priority. As much as he wanted to make sure that the kid was happy, none of it would matter if Clarke jumped in and blew their whole plan to smithereens. The guy was up to something and even with Rhodey looking into things now as well, they needed to act fast and precisely.

Tony cleared his throat, determined to get things back on track. "What about the apartment?"

"We took care of that."

He blew out a deep grunt. "Nat, I need a little more information than just—"

"No, you don't. Clint and I took care of it. There's nothing to worry about."

He couldn't stand still anymore, as much as he wanted to, as much as he knew that fidgeting like he was, made him look nervous and weak, out of control. Clarke was still out there. He was still plotting and Tony couldn't—

"My god, man." She pulled him close by both of his arm and looked straight at him until his feet were finally planted firmly on the ground. "We made sure there wasn't any trace of blood left. I swept the apartment of all the obvious spots. They didn't take any DNA when they took May Parker. It's not like they were hunting for a suspect. Clint did a second sweep. I can go back again, if you need anything out of there right away, but the injunction Pepper has pending should transfer access to you by midday today so you can retrieve the boy's personal items. You can take a look yourself then."

Tony nodded, feeling somewhat lighter.

"He's waiting for you at the corner of Pearl Street. You should get going."

Tony's eyes were still cast down, staring at where she was holding onto him to keep him still.

There was a moment of silence that had her grip only tightened. "You're the one who asked for this. If you can't do it, if you can't go then—"

"It's fine." He shook his head, the only part of his body that seemed willing to move. "I can. I'm fine, I need to—"

"Tony, fucking look at me."

He hated her tone. Hated how she could see through him when he least wanted her to. When nobody was supposed to be able to. The shortest moments of hesitation, a glance in the wrong direction and she just knew. He pulled himself together, met her eyes, her face only a few inches from his.

"You can't fight with him. You can't do the whole damn_ 'I told you so'_ routine no matter how much you think he deserves it."

"He does!" The little control he had was waning. "He does deserve it."

"Tony, now is not the time to—"

He pushed himself as far away from her as the little cove allowed. "Don't you lecture me on Rogers! I'm sick and tired of that!"

She kept her eyes on him, her hold on him still tight. "This is not about me giving you a lecture. This is about you keeping your focus on what's important. We don't need you to wallow in how much Steve screwed up. What he did doesn't matter right now! None of that will help you or the kid."

He knew that. He knew all that. "You know perfectly well that—"

She had stepped closer so much faster than he could even register her movement. Her hand was clasped over his mouth, effectively shutting him up, a finger of the other hand was pressed tightly on her own lips.

It was the door that fell shut with a loud bang that pulled his focus to what Nat had reacted to. Two women had pushed their way into the stairwell and Tony's pulse shifted up into the next gear. They couldn't be seen together. The women were laughing and babbling along. It took a couple of beats until Tony could make out some of what they were saying.

"...know if I could deal with that. It's gotta be cold, right? When he touches you?"

"Yeah but those eyes. Just imagine if he looks at you with those when he—"

"This is no break room!"

It wasn't until Nat's Russian accent echoed through the staircase that Tony realized that her hands weren't even on him anymore.

"Shift is not over for 30 minutes!"

Both nurses had fallen silent immediately. There was a bit of rustling as they shifted on their feet.

"I'm sorry, Nurse Griffin, but I swear we already finished everything you told us to do. We even—"

"You even had time for unauthorized trip to basement, I hear that!"

A cold shiver ran down Tony's back. Barnes was still there then.

The two nurses groveled a bit until Natasha pushed them along onto the next floor, distributing new tasks and effectively clearing the way for Tony's descend. The gist of her lecture had been clear. He wasn't supposed to lose his cool, which was a super helpful suggestion. Like he was making his way into the bowels of the NYPD's headquarter just so he could blow up at Rogers and get caught by the foot soldiers down there as a reward.

He exited the hospital on the southern side without further incident. It was just a few minutes walk uptown and it wasn't like anyone was expecting Tony Stark to be walking through the streets of Manhattan, hiding in plain sight. Certainly not at daybreak just hours after he had recovered his long-lost son. He did feel like shit for leaving the boy, but he was safe with Pepper and Rhodey at the Tower and all this was necessary to keep it that way.

Barton was waiting right where Natasha said he would be, not far off a side entrance to the NYPD headquarters. The hospital had been one thing but stealing into that building was a whole other level of nerve-racking. There would be consequences if he was caught.

He swallowed hard, no point in freaking out about it. It had to be done. "Barnes is still at the hospital?"

Clint didn't shy away from him, met his eyes not turning away. "Natasha's keeping tabs." The spy shrugged. "If we want to get him out, now's the time."

"Do we want that?" He couldn't keep the strain from his voice.

"You tell me." Clint moved his feet now, arms crossed in front of himself. "Soon as they transfer him to headquarters he'll be a sitting duck. Just like Cap."

Tony bit his lip hard, desperate for some clarity. He had never wanted to make those decisions, had surrendered his CEO position to Pepper for a reason after all. How was he back to having to maneuver them all through this bullshit. "Breaking him out is not an option."

Barton stayed quiet, eyes not straying from Tony's face and Tony just huffed out a low breath.

"We can't break him out and leave him on the run. Who knows how many triggers are still buried in that brain of his."

"That your final word?" The archer's fingers twitched, giving away some part of the tension he was fighting. "So, we'll just let him rot in a cell then. On the Raft. Both him and Steve?"

"You wanna break them out then?" Tony couldn't help the flippant tone. "Didn't you say something about wanting to see your family again? About not making the same mistake twice?"

Clint pulled in a deep breath through locked teeth and kept them that way, visually forced his voice to stay low. "As ill-advised as Steve's action might have been, he doesn't deserve the Raft. Having sat there myself, how do you expect me to sit back and just let them—"

"Clint, the Raft is all Ross." Tony stepped closer to him, careful to have his voice drowned out by the nearby traffic just in case anyone was nearby but out of sight. "If we bring down Ross, we cut off the beast's head. Breaking them out, what then? We just underline all the propaganda Ross is spewing. And what happens if we're caught? Then we all sit in? Who's left to get us out then?"

Barton let his head drop, chin to his chest.

"I want a quick fix, too. Believe me, I want to sit at home with my family doing all the boring shit, but none of us can do that while these assholes are still out there."

"I know that!" Clint turned to look up and down the street, cursing under his breath. "Fine. We bring it down from within."

Tony nodded when the other man looked back up at him. "We bring it all down in plain sight. The only way it stays dead!"

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_[author's note: _

_Thank you guys as always for following the story along and leaving votes + comments. They always make my day. :) Even if I don't get around to responding to everything, know I love them and they totally make me want to publish chapters a little faster than maybe I sometimes should ;) #whatsabetareader #oops ]_


	62. Lies and Leverage - Chapter 62

**Chapter 62 - Lie and Leverage**

The hallway that led to the underground cells was damp and dark. All the light Tony dared to use for navigational purposes came from his wristwatch. There was nobody down there, even the guy that had agreed to let him in wouldn't decent to that basement level, not daring to risk his job. It was only Tony and the soft echo of his steps reflected off the naked concrete walls. That and the beat of his heart, fast but steady. Determined.

It was a shock to his system when he opened the door that shut off Rogers' cell from the hallway. In there, the lights were turned up all the way, blinding after his dark journey through the bowels of the NYPD's headquarter.

"How did you get in here?" The Captain's jaw hung a little open, eyes wide in surprise.

The cell was centered in the middle of the room. Four walls made out of glass, no privacy, nowhere to hide. The camera's installed in every top corner of the cage made sure the detainee would feel watched 24/7.

Tony shrugged and stepped a little closer to the barrier. "I know my way around. I'm sneaky like that."

The Captain sniffed out an almost amused breath. "How mysterious." Rogers turned his eyes away, suddenly acting like he didn't even see him. "Cameras," he muttered under his breath.

"I know, Cap. Took care of those. We have a few minutes."

The man looked up at him. That little frown on his face might have been anything from shame to disapproval. No matter how many years Tony had schooled his own face not to give his thoughts away, for some reason with Rogers it took more effort than with anyone else to keep his cool. Even now, even after years of, well, dare he call it collaboration.

"Clint might have cashed in a favor or two."

"I see." Rogers shifted from one foot to the other, looking away again. Was it shame after all then? "They aren't happy with me. Clint. Nat."

"They really are not." Tony kept his voice as neutral as possible. It wasn't that he didn't have every reason to stick it to Rogers after everything, it was that all of that was second now to what was really important. He had known that even without Natasha's lecture. "But I don't give a shit, Steve. I was never into that popularity contest."

Rogers just shook his head, clearly irritated. "How's your boy?"

It was Tony's turn to look away, his eyes glued to the ground. He couldn't really find it in himself to look Rogers in the eye. After everything that had happened in the last few years, after everything that had happened just in the last couple of months, Tony wanted to do both, punch him in his perfect teeth as well as thank him on his hands and knees for coming to his boy's aid. Twice now. His teeth cut sharply into his lip. "He's at the Tower. He's safe."

"Good. I... I told him you'd get him out." He nodded to himself. "I didn't know, Tony. I swear, I... We've been working to get all the triggers out. If I'd known anything, I would have never..." Rogers paced a couple of steps back and forth. "I don't know how this could have happened. He was fine. He was _fine._"

"The kid would be dead without you, Steve." Tony had to take a couple of breaths, had to ground himself before he looked up at the Captain. "Thank you."

Rogers didn't quite meet his eyes. "I'd probably be dead without him. If he hadn't come after us..." He bit his lip, the silence thick between them. "He was... he was truly scared and still, he went to help. That was brave."

Brave. It had been reckless and suicidal, but that wasn't why Tony was here. There was not enough time for him to bite Rogers' head off as he projected his ridiculous savior mentality onto his 13-year-old kid. His teenage boy who already carried all that sense of responsibility around like he was 30 years older. It was obvious how the wheels in the Captain's head were turning, how he was looking for the right words while forcefully biting his tongue. His breathing was labored and there was a part of Tony that really appreciated that the first question out of his mouth hadn't been about how the man's buddy was. Nevertheless, the question on Rogers' mind was written all over his face.

Tony cleared his throat. "Nat's still at the hospital. She's keeping an eye on Barnes for now, but they'll move him soon enough." He suppressed the urge to pick at his suit sleeve just to keep his hands occupied with something. "I don't know what they'll do. They'll angle for the Raft. I assume that's where they'll want to put you, too."

He looked up and the Super Soldier's eyes were positively burning. "It's not his fault, Tony. He's not in control. I tried to—"

"I know that." Tony snarled. "You think I don't know that? I offered to help him months ago, Steve, but you had to have things your way!"

Rogers' hand crashed against the glass barrier. "There is no helping him with Ross in charge. He's a monster! And what do you think he'll do when he finds out about your son's little secret, huh?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Are you threatening me, Rogers?"

"I..." The man let his hands fall down and took a step back from the barrier. "No, Tony. I... I just need you to understand that we're on the same side. Ross... Ross is—"

"Ross is a corrupt, power-hungry asshole. You think I don't know that? I've told you they'll try to pit us against each other." He had a hard time keeping his voice down. A screaming match with Rogers would do nothing but draw attention to them and get him in trouble. "I've been working to get rid of him for months, which is a little hard when you and your merry band of righteous crusaders validate every single piece of anti-enhanced propaganda bullshit Ross and his cronies put out there."

Rogers didn't look at him, just shook his head. "Working with them makes you no better than they are."

"I'm not working _with_ them," Tony spat out. "I'm working to bring them down, but without pissing of 100 plus countries and getting myself thrown in jail in the process."

Rogers had turned his back on him but Tony's pulse was skyrocketing nonetheless. Rogers just knew how to press his buttons and to Tony's shame, he could just never resist engaging. Too deep-seated was his agitation with the Captain. They had always clashed, even when Rogers had still been in the ice, he had made Tony's life difficult. Had monopolized his father's attention for years. It didn't even matter if Rogers had been a symptom much more than the cause for his father's absence. Maybe Howard would have found something else to obsess about if it hadn't been for America's Golden Boy. His father, killed by the man's best friend and he didn't even have the decency to share that secret.

"You should have just told me, Steve. You should have just fucking told me."

Rogers turned back to him, face almost pressed against the glass cage. "Like all the things you never told me?"

His eyes narrowed, Tony shook his head. "I never kept things from you on purpose!"

"Oh yeah? When did you start hanging out with Spider-Man again?"

Like he had been hit by an electric surge, he took a step back from the glass ."That's different. You and Wilson, you were irrational!"

"Right, of course, it's different when it's _you_. Cause your reaction when you found out about Bucky was so measured."

"You went mental because the kid bruised your ego. Barnes killed my parents!" He bit his lip hard, anger rolling over him like a heat stroke. He wasn't entirely in control and he couldn't afford to lose it in front of Rogers so close to a cell that he wouldn't so easily get out of if discovered and arrested. "Fine. You know what. You're right. I lied to you. For a couple of months, I kept a secret from you because I thought I knew better. Because I thought once you guys got over the whole Manhattan debacle and things would calm down, that we could talk this through like adults. Gain an ally if we played things right. If he trusted us."

"A 13-year-old ally."

"I didn't know that," Tony snarled.

"How old did you think he was?" The smug expression on Rogers' face made his blood boil.

"What does it even matter? You..." Tony stepped back closer to the glass, finger pointed directly at the Captain. "You lied to me. For years. You never intended for me to find out about it, did you."

"They were gone, Tony. We were already fighting HYDRA. In the end, what would it have—"

"It's my family, Steve." He fought so hard to keep his voice down, it cracked with the strain. "I deserved to know! They were my parents!"

"And Bucky is my family! The only family I have left. He's my brother. He—"

"He killed my parents. He almost killed my son. Twice!" Tony just about stopped himself from banging his fist against the glass to underline his point.

"That wasn't him! I couldn't. I couldn't risk it... I couldn't—"

"Couldn't risk to tell me the truth about my own family?"

"You really blame me? For not telling you? Really? After what happened in Siberia?"

Tony turned away from him, hands balled into fists. "We're going around in circles. I'm not having the same useless argument with you again and again."

Rogers stayed quiet, only shuffled from one foot to the other while Tony tried to get his temper in check. There was no point to this. There was no point in fighting with that Star-Spangled meathead. He'd never admit that he was wrong, would probably never even see Tony's side. It didn't matter. The trust they once had was gone, irreversibly destroyed.

The Captain gave an undetermined shake with his head, eyes on the floor. "What will happen now?"

His arms crossed in front of himself, Tony blew out a long breath. "Like I said, we think they'll try to transfer you straight to the Raft, indefinite detention under the NDAA. Not just for what happened yesterday. They'll pull out every incident over the last couple of months. Germany. Bucharest." He cleared his throat. "We're trying to fight that. New York might focus on what happened here first and we'll try to classify that... that incident in Queens as a targeted attack on a specific private citizen rather than an act of terror."

"An act of terror?!" Rogers' face was changing color, glowing bright red. "Bucky's not a terrorist!"

"No, he's a highly trained weapon of a terrorist organization. We are—"

"He's been used and abused!" Rogers' voice rang loudly in the dark basement. "None of this is his fault!"

"I— Would you shut up already!" He held up a hand to stop the Captain, ears strained to listen for any sound that would indicate movement beyond the door. Satisfied when there was only silence he turned back to Rogers, determined to keep his voice level. "We're pressing for a trial. If we can convince a jury that—"

"A jury of his peers?" Rogers scoffed. "Who would sit on that? All the other enhanced soldiers from the 40s. Cool, I guess that's just me then."

Tony bit the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from lashing out. "We need to fight them inside the system. We need to oust them starting at the top. None of this will matter if Ross stays in charge."

"Yeah, easy for you to say sitting pretty in your Tower with your happy little family."

Tony swallowed the biting comeback that was on his lips but apparently it shone brightly enough in his eyes for Rogers turned his back, breathing heavily through his anger.

"I need you to trust me, Cap. This time, I just need you to fucking trust me."

"He's everything I have left, Tony."

"He's not. He's not all you have left and you know that."

"There is nobody that—"

"Steve. Just... just stop. I'm doing everything I can. Nat and Clint, the team at the Compound, we're doing everything we can to end this for good." He swallowed hard, pushing away everything he had ever wanted to hurl at the Captain's face.

This wasn't just about Rogers. His fate, Barnes' fate, the fate of that mission. All of it would affect his boy. Tony could take off that suit but even without a suit, Aiden... Peter. His son would always be in jeopardy unless they brought down Ross, Clarke, all these assholes.

Head held high he looked straight at Rogers. "I need everything you have on him."

Rogers stared at him, lips pressed together tightly.

"Come on, Cap..."

"Everything I have on him?"

"Yes."

"On Ross."

Tony gave a small nod. "Obviously."

"What makes you think I have anything on him?"

Tony collected himself for a beat. That wasn't possible. After all this time, he had to know something. "You've been running around the globe for weeks now, what the fuck else have you been doing if not collect shit on Ross?"

The Captain crossed his arms in front of himself. "You mean other than thwart attacks and save civilians?"

"You... you can't be serious right now..."

"We left because we wanted to do the work the Accords were going to ban us from." Rogers shook his head. "We left because we had enough of the political circus."

His eyes narrowed on him, Tony made sure not to pace, to stay steady. "You left because you're a stubborn old bastard. I'm not an idiot, Steve. I need him gone and fast!"

The other man stayed quiet for another moment, then shook his head. "We only got the odd intel. Nothing specific. He's good at keeping these things bottled up."

Tony tried to breathe through the panic that was slowly rising in his throat. That... no... there had to be something!

Rogers huffed out a breath and let his arms fall to his sides. "Nat... Nat knows most of this. You didn't have to come here for that."

"Nat told me what she knew. But... but that... that can't have been everything. Steve, please, you need to give me something."

The look on Rogers' face made Tony's own fall. He really didn't have anything, nothing they could use. After weeks, months of them working in the dark, there was nothing. With a sharp turn, Tony pulled away from the glass cage, one hand clasped over his mouth. He was shaking. He hadn't realized how much until just then.

"Tony..."

He shook his head. What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to keep his kid safe?

"What about your intel." Rogers' feet shuffled back and forth behind him. "What about Vision? We know you had him in D.C. for a reason. There has to be something."

He took a moment to breathe, just a minute to grasp for something like control. "Circumstantial, all of it." Slowly, Tony turned to face Rogers again. "I know he ordered all of it, but I can't prove it. If I come out with all that, try to use it against him, all he needs to do is throw a couple of his people under the bus."

They stayed quiet, both of them. He didn't really know where to go from here. He had thought that Rogers would be his way out. That he knew something that could make all that intel from D.C. valuable. But it turned out, no.

Rogers cleared his throat. "So, I guess you're not gonna let me out, are you."

Tony huffed out a shallow breath. "Let you out? How am I gonna do that?"

The Captain shrugged. "Disable the electronics on the door. Or something."

"Yeah?" Tony faced him again and gave a little shrug. "And then what? You just gonna box your way out of here?"

"I'm no help for you in here."

He hadn't been much help out on the streets either, but Tony knew better than to voice that biting thought. "I... I gotta go."

"Wait, Tony—"

He shook his head. "They can't find me here." One more time, Tony's eyes locked with Rogers through the high-security glass of the cage that held the man captive. "You just have to trust me, Steve."

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_[author's note: Alright, guys. This was a super short one (and I kind of regret not sticking it at the end of the last chapter, but here we are).br /_

_I will put out the next one in the next 24h, probably some time tonight even (which is only a few more hours on my side of the globe), but they this and the next part just wouldn't go together._

_Thank you as always for your feedback and for reading! It brightens my day :)]_


	63. Some You Win, Some You Lose - Chapter 63

**Chapter 63 - You Win Some, You Lose Some**

He was itching for his phone, just to have something that could give him some more information on what was happening out there. He had no illusions that he'd learn anything about how his aunt was doing or where Mr. Stark was of course. If he had really gone to see her. If he had talked to her. If she was okay.

But at least it would give him some form of distraction. Lying in that bed, just waiting for things to unfold, waiting for the man to come back and clinging to the hope that he would talk to him, tell him what had happened when he did return, all of it was just exhausting

The Colonel, Rhodey, he was still right there with him. As awkward as it had been at first, Peter couldn't deny that he welcomed the company. They didn't talk all that much, but when Pepper had come in with a light breakfast, the Colonel had retrieved some playing cards from somewhere in the penthouse. Peter was sitting up, feeling better with some actual food in his stomach and he couldn't deny that his spirits were up somewhat after he had convinced Rhodey to change from Go Fish to Texas Hold'em. The man's face fell a little more with every round just like the pile of quarters on Peter's side of the bedside table grew.

It was a distraction alright, but not enough for him to miss the vibe in the penthouse change. Just before noon, he was back. Peter could just tell, that Mr. Stark was back. It drew his attention enough that Rhodey won back a couple of quarters off him and they were on the fifth card of the next round as the door to Peter's room was pushed open.

It was Mr. Stark alright. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week which he likely hadn't, but there was no urgency to his steps, no detectable flutter in his heartbeat.

"Hey..." A few long strides and he was by Peter's side, his hands were warm as one of them squeezed Peter's arm and the palm of the other against his forehead, feeling his temperature. "Hey, you're up. How do you feel?"

"Did you see her?" Peter could hardly hold onto himself, cards forgotten in his lap. The need to know that she was okay or... or would be, it was too strong to push down for even another moment. "Is she gonna be okay? Did she... did she—"

"Shh, alright now, calm down." The man squeezed his shoulder and gestured to the row of cards spread out on Peter's bed. "Go on, finish your hand."

Peter huffed. "Fine." He picked up the three little towers of stacked up quarters and dropped them onto his bed. "There, all in."

Rhodey's eyebrows shot up and after a quick look at Mr. Stark and then at the five quarters still stacked up on the table next to him, he pulled out his wallet and added a few more dollar bills. "I guess, I'll call then."

"Cool." Peter dropped his two cards onto the bed facing up. "Flush, King of Spades High Card." He turned back to Mr. Stark. "Is she okay?"

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Rhodey threw his two Aces in the middle of the pile.

"Aw, Three Of A Kind isn't all that bad. Nice try, Platypus!"

Peter wouldn't take his eyes off the man next to him though, searching for his attention. "Mr. Stark, please..."

"Shh, just settle down, buddy." Mr. Stark collected the coins and dollar notes from the bed and moved them back to Peter's bedside table. "I can't believe you let the kid talk you into Poker. It's like you learned nothing from college, honeybear."

Rhodey had leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "I even thought about letting him win. Should have known better, of course with your kid." He shook his head, just watching as Mr. Stark collected the many quarters from between the folds of Peter's sheet.

"The kid was the one who calibrated your braces, genius. You think Poker would be hard on him?"

Heat rushed into Peter's cheeks and he looked away when Rhodey's eyes shifted up to him. "Is that true?"

Peter shrugged. "I... I just helped a bit."

"Every screw is calibrated by hand and believe me, my hands don't bend that way anymore. When's the last time Helen was here?" Setting the cards next to the coins, Mr. Stark nudged Peter a bit. "Scooch over a bit, kid."

"Please, Mr. Stark—"

"The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can get to everything else."

Peter groaned but moved over a bit until there was enough room for Mr. Stark to sit down next to him. "Couple hours ago," he mumbled, eyes cast down.

"Alright, what did she say?"

It seemed clear that the question wasn't really addressed to him and he didn't even look up as Rhodey cleared his throat. "Pain's still there. She gave him another shot of the sedative, only half a dose though. Vitals look good. Nutrition levels have picked up."

Mr. Stark's hand ran through his hair until Peter looked up at him. "Did you eat?

"Pepper... Pepper made breakfast."

"Beacon and eggs?"

"Toast and fruit."

Mr. Stark screwed up his face. "Well, you missed out. Maybe you'll be luckier for lunch."

"Mr. Stark—"

"In a minute, buddy." He turned back to Rhodey. "What's her prognosis."

The man sat up a little straighter. "Couple more days of rest. She'll be back to look at his arm in a bit. Maybe tomorrow a trip to the Compound to let the Cradle do its job on it. When he's a bit stronger."

"Alright, that..." Mr. Stark sighed and pulled Peter a little closer. "We'll get you there, kid."

Rhodey's eyes were on him and he couldn't help but duck closer to Mr. Stark, hiding his face.

"Could you give us a few minutes, Platypus?"

Rhodey grimaced but nodded. The soft sounds of the braces followed him as he made his way out of the room, only second to the loud thumping of Peter's heart. Or so it seemed to him. Even before the door closed behind the Colonel, Peter reached for the fabric of Mr. Stark's dress shirt, doing his best to ignore the low throbbing of that bullet wound on his arm.

"Mr. Stark..."

"Shh, just..." The man blew out a long deep breath, only pulling Peter closer. "Just give me a moment, bud. Just... just..."

Both his arms were wrapped around Peter now, his cheek resting on Peter's hair. Peter clung to him, fearing the worst, his eyes stung with uncertainty. The man was nervous, it was easy enough to tell, his heart strong and loud in Peter's ears but the rhythm not as steady as it had been before. Not as confident as it had been when they had been there before, right in that room after what had happened in Lagos, when Peter had skipped school and fled to the Tower, had craved security and found it right there with his mentor.

Only weeks ago but what now felt like another lifetime. Like someone else's life.

"Please, did you... did you see her?"

Mr. Stark swallowed hard. "I did, buddy."

"Is... Is she—" Peter bit his lip. She wasn't alright. He knew that she wasn't for he couldn't get the last memories from their apartment out of his mind. The way she lay in his arms, unmoving, unconscious. How he had left her there.

"She's recovering. Not... not at the rate you are, obviously. She... she'll need time to heal, but she will."

"Can you... can you just get her out? Please, Mr. Stark... please, help her, please. Doctor Cho, she can help her, just... just like she helps me."

"Pete, she's in police custody. I can't just—" The man blew out another deep breath, pulling in one just as deep. "I told her I'm sending my lawyers to help but—"

"You... you talked to her? You talked? What... what did she say? What did you say?"

The silence in the room was heavy, Peter could positively feel it pressing down on him. It wasn't a good sign. Mr. Stark being nervous, none of these were good signs.

"You... you told her? About me?"

Mr. Stark nodded, his teeth gritted. Peter's hand let go of the fabric of the man's shirt and covered his own face instead. He couldn't even imagine, didn't want to imagine what her reaction had been. He didn't want to know either, he just wanted her to be safe.

"Mr... Mr. Stark? Please... please help her."

The man shuffled next to him. "Buddy, look at me." His arms loosened around Peter, one hand tilting up his face. There was nowhere to hide and as self-conscious as Peter felt, tears in his eyes and all, he pulled himself together, looking up into the man's face.

"I am trying to help. I will explain if you let me."

Peter nodded before he was even finished talking.

"There are some things that will happen now. Things we can't control."

"But—"

Mr. Stark arched his eyebrows at him, giving Peter a look that shut him up right away.

"They will charge her, likely some time today. There is nothing we can do about that. They know enough to charge her now and there is more evidence out there that we can't hide. Evidence they will find and—"

"But... but Mr. Stark—"

"Kid, I'm not done." He waited a beat for Peter to stop fidgeting before he continued. "There's evidence, there are documents they _will_ find. They will offer her a deal. It's not her they really want. Not her who Clarke is gunning for but they will take what they can get."

Peter's breathing was fast and shallow, his eyes stung. "It's me they want."

"Pete—"

"I... I'll go! I don't... not May, it's not fair. I'll go and they can... they can just—"

"You will do no such thing." Mr. Stark pulled him into his arms again, holding him tightly pressed to his chest. "They want to get to me, not you."

"No..." Peter shook his head, not holding back the tears any longer. "Clarke, he... he wants me, he knows. I know he knows and he won't stop—"

"Shh, calm down, buddy."

Peter pushed at his chest and felt the man shrink back with a grunt. "You know it's true! You saw him! He knows!"

"Hey, buddy, breathe. Peter, you—"

"Don't!"

His heart was racing. There had to be a way out. He couldn't let this happen, not to May. Not after everything he had already cost her. Mr. Stark's arms were wrapped around him so tightly, he couldn't seem to move all that far. He tried to wiggle away but the man held on, refused to give even an inch. With his powers sedated, there wasn't anything he could do about it and after a couple of minutes his breathing seemed to even out, his body giving up.

Mr. Stark swallowed hard, one hand moved from Peter's forearm up to his face. "You listening now, buddy?"

Peter nodded into his shirt, worried that his voice would break would he attempt to speak.

"What the Parker's did, your... your aunt and uncle, taking their own son's identity to give to you, moving you across state lines into New York—"

"I... I told you, I... I wanted to! I wanted to... to stay with them, I did, I swear I—"

"I know, buddy. I believe you, but legally that doesn't matter. You were a minor, you... you _are _a minor still but back then you were so young and impressionable they had you accept the name of—"

"They... they kept me safe, took... took care of me."

Mr. Stark sighed, his eyes cast down like Peter was too stupid to get it, too naive to understand but he just couldn't let it go. It wasn't fair! He could tell the court and they would have to listen! This wasn't justice.

The door to his room was pushed open again and he couldn't even look at Miss Potts as she rushed to the bed, her hand finding Peter's.

He needed to focus, needed to find a solution. "What... what's the worst that could happen?"

"Honey..." Pepper squeezed his hand, looking back and forth between the two of them. "This isn't the time."

"The very worst? Mr. Stark, please..." It was hard work to keep his voice somewhat measured and it didn't help that she had come in either so when he looked back up, he was searching only for Mr. Stark's eyes. "What could they do to her?"

He was still close but enough to his side that Peter had a clear view of his face, the way his lips were pressed together tightly. "Life. Worst case scenario. Plus... plus the identity theft charges which... which could be up to another 15."

"L—Life?" Mr. Stark's hand was in his hair, trying to soothe him, but failing. "Life in prison?"

"Worst case."

"That's not gonna happen," Pepper's voice was strong, determined.

"You don't know that, Pep."

"B—but, but no, that..." He couldn't even cry, his body shook to the core.

"They brought you across state lines, buddy, that makes this a federal crime." Mr. Stark's words came out low but clear and still Peter's brain seemed to reject the very idea of what he was suggesting. "Kidnapping of a minor by a non-related person."

Peter shook his head, fighting to keep his voice up. "No, but... but she's my aunt. She's my aunt! They... they can't! They can't do that!"

Mr. Stark's hands were both on his shoulders, squeezing them. "Not legally, she isn't."

"Tony..." Pepper's voice an almost inaudible warning.

Peter's eyes shot up at the man next to him, the shock that was paralyzing at first pushing his brain to work harder, faster. The man's face was stoic, apologetic in a way but set, unwavering.

Cold dread swept over him. "You... you want her in jail."

The man's mouth twitch, just for a split second he looked away but it was enough of a tell.

"You.. you want her locked away—"

"No, that's not—"

"You promised me!" Peter's hands were balled up in the man's shirt. "You said you would help! You promised you would—"

"And I am!" Mr. Stark grabbed his hands now, holding them close, not letting go.

"You're not! You just want her out of the way! You want her gone!"

Pepper stepped between them, one hand stretched out to push Mr. Stark back, off the bed, the other reaching for Peter. "Alright now, darling, calm down, that's not—"

"I'm not stupid!" His voice was hoarse, his vision swimming not just with tears but from the light-headed feeling that had his fingertips prickle. "I know what he's doing!" He leaned over to look at Mr. Stark directly. "I know what you're doing! I won't— You can't!"

"Shh, just breathe. I promise you, we are trying. Both of us." She didn't hold him down, but she held onto him firmly. "Tony, tell him."

"I did," Mr. Stark spat out. "I tried! I'm sending the most expensive lawyers you can buy in this city!"

"You're trying to throw her under the bus to keep them away from me! But I won't let you! You can't do that!"

Mr. Stark threw his arms into the air in resignation. He paced a few steps before he came to a stop, looking up again. "I'm not, but... you know what, I would!"

"Tony!"

"If throwing your aunt to the wolfs would keep you safe, I wouldn't even hesitate." His eyes were locked with Peter's, positively burning. "I don't care what you think of me, kid. If that's the price I have to pay for them not to get to you, I'll pay it every fucking day of the week."

"Tony, stop!" Pepper blocked him from Mr. Stark's view, her back turned to Peter.

"What? You want me to pretend that my top priority is to keep the woman who has been hiding away my son for almost a decade out of jail? As a thank you for keeping him from me?"

"Get out!" She stepped towards him and pushed his shoulders till he had turned to the door. "Get out and don't come back until your head's screwed on straight again!"

To Peter's surprise, the man didn't argue. He didn't even speak. He simply ripped the door open and a moment later, his steps were echoing down the hallway as he called for the elevator. Pepper's hands were back on Peter before he could really react to what had just happened. She ran her fingers through his hair then settled down next to him and just let him cry his eyes out.

#

The lab was dark and quiet. The windows were on lockdown, not a single ray of that August midday sun penetrated his walls. Nothing would penetrate his walls and when Rhodey asked for access to the lab he had a strong urge to refuse it.

"Tones..."

He shook his head.

"Tony, get a fucking grip."

"Shut up!" He didn't even look at him. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Well, there was a bit of a screaming match on the other floor so I went to check out where the fire was."

Tony shook his head again, not in the mood for banter, not in the mood for anything other than pulling out the suit and getting to kick some ass. All these people that had ruined his life. That had taken away the one thing that meant the most to him, the one person that changed his life and was now lost to him forever.

"Hey, can you look at me?"

"Listen, I'm not in the mood for a lecture."

"Well, too bad for you—"

He turned on him, barely able to hold it together. "I'm not kidding, just leave me the fuck alone."

"Tony, you need to pull yourself together."

"Fuck you."

Rhodey pressed his lips close tightly, biting back his response. Tony's blood was boiling. He couldn't deal with this anymore, with any of this.

"We all know that you're strung up to your breaking point and considering everything that has happened you get a pass for lashing out but—"

"Jeeze, so generous." Tony gave a small curtsy. "I feel so special thanks to your deeply considerate—"

"Alright, cut it out." His friend stepped further into the lab. "You want to rage at someone? You want to blow off steam, go right ahead. I'm right here, so give me your worst."

Tony puffed his cheeks with a huff and turned away. He picked up one of the tools that lay disregarded on his workbench, anything to just not engage.

"Go on, big shot. You want to scream and curse and throw stuff, do it to me, not to a 13-year-old kid!"

"Fuck you!" He spun around, screwdriver pointed at the other man. "You don't tell me what to do. Nobody fucking tells _me_ what to do!"

He couldn't stand the look on Rhodey's face. It wasn't anger, not even disapproval. Pity. He wouldn't let them judge him. He was better than that. They could all go to hell if that's where all this was going. He didn't need this. He didn't need any of this.

"Oh, I will. I will tell you what to do. I got 11 years of godfather duties racked up and I will tell you to keep your fucking lit on around the kid because no matter how much you're suffering, he's just a boy." Rhodey took another step towards him and Tony couldn't help but flinch back. "And I know you know that. I know you don't want to hurt him, that you're reeling under everything that's happened. That you're just trying to protect him."

"Stop. Drop the fucking act." Tony threw the screwdriver back onto the workbench were it rolled off the other end and landed on the tiles with a metallic clank. "You think I need you to lecture me on my son? He's mine, my boy!"

Rhodey's hands were up in the air, trying to calm, but his voice was bating him all the same, pushing him to crack. "It doesn't work that way, Tones. You know that. He's his own person and if you go down this road, you'll lose him."

Both hands tugging on his hair, Tony paced up and down, his knees weak. "None of that matters. I already lost him. He'll never—" Tony shook his head. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what the kid thought of him, even if it would hurt, tear him up inside, only one thing mattered. "All that matters is that he's safe and I don't give fuck what the price for that is."

"Tony, you can't force this on him. If he refuses to—"

"He's 13! You think he has any idea of the consequences of what he wants to do? Of what he wants me to do? He's still a kid!"

Rhodey still had his arms up, his eyes followed Tony around the room. "A kid with superpowers!"

So what?! Tony scoffed, turned away. That didn't matter. It didn't excuse him from his responsibility for the boy. If anything if meant Tony had to be so much stricter, so much better at keeping the kid safe.

"What happened with the aunt?"

"Nothing." Tony shook his head, pacing. "Nothing happened."

"You told her that he's your son."

Deep breaths. His head was swimming. "I did."

"So?"

"So what?"

"What did she say?"

Tony shrugged, his arms spread wide. "Other than how much she hates me and that I'm ruining her life? How I could never buy the kid's affection and would never—" He cut himself off. It was enough. He didn't want to think back on that. It didn't matter what she said, what she thought. She wasn't important.

"She's beaten up in a hospital bed, in police custody. Did you think she'd be thankful for any of that?"

"That's not—" He gritted his teeth. "It doesn't matter. I don't care about her."

Rhodey blew out a low breath. "Dude, the sooner you accept that you do, the faster we'll work this through."

"I don't, I—" He had turned, eyes on Rhodey, but his anger was failing, floating away. It was replaced by something he couldn't quite put his finger on. "I'm not the villain here, I didn't..." Emotion was choking him up. It wasn't just his head that hurt, there was a stinging pain in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. "She's had him, kept him to herself for all these years and... and me? I'm the bad guy in this?"

Rhodey dropped his arms, slowly stepped closer. "You're not the bad guy, Tones. You're not."

He turned his back, his head low. "I am though. Everything I do. None of it is enough. It's all... it's not changing anything. It's not helping, not... nothing I do."

"Hey, come on..." Rhodey's hand grabbed his arm, squeezed it tight. "Don't be so dramatic. You know that's bullshit."

His tone was flippant and at any other time, Tony would have been able to appreciate his effort to take the tension out of the situation. But not that day. All of this, the stakes were just too high.

"This sucks, okay? All of this." Rhodey pulled him closer, his eyes searching Tony's face. "Hell, I've been here for less than 24h and I already want to rip my hair out."

Tony snorted a low laugh. "Shut up. That's not funny."

A smirk tugged on the other man's lips. "No. No, I guess, it's not." He blew out a low breath through his nose. "This sucks. All of it sucks, but you need to pull it together."

"I... I know, I..." He rubbed both hands across his face. "Fuck, I... I fucked up, okay? I just... I just need him to be safe." He dropped his hands, looking straight at his friend. "I don't know how to keep him safe."

_**"Sir, Agent Hill is on the line for you."**_

* * *

_**###**_

* * *

_[author's note: Alright, guys. As promised, here's part #2of today's update!_

_Next update will likely be some time next week! Thank you again for all the comments, kudos and the feedback. It's the perfect motivator! :) ]_


	64. Twist of Fate - Chapter 64

**Chapter 64 - Twist of Fate**

There was still rubble on the street. Enough that his driver had to actively avoid it. His sunglasses, the darkest he could find, in addition to the tinted windows of the car, gave Queens the moody look it deserved, very much in line with Tony's own mood. Most of the street wasn't even robed off, not like he had expected. He would have thought that Clarke would have an officer stationed on every corner, guarding every little piece of trash that looked even remotely like Peter Parker could have touched it at some point.

Or maybe Tony just didn't see the officers because the street was flooded by too many reporters and on-lookers. Photographers, television crews, all of them had descended onto the block where Tony Stark's long lost son had lived for all these years. The driver pulled up to the entry of the apartment building. With the privacy screen separating him from the front of the car, at least Tony didn't get to hear a useless "We're here, Sir."

Like he didn't know. Like he hadn't set foot into this building months ago. Months ago, when even with the aftermath of Ultron, the world had seemed a little simpler, though just as dark. He waited for another minute until the security personnel he had brought along with him had cleared the path to the front door. A quick swipe at his watch had his inbox pop up. Nothing from Barton. Nothing from Pepper. Things would go ahead as planned then.

Tony readjusted his glasses before he pushed open the door of the car. The reporters that surrounded him were hard to ignore even at a bit of a distance, shouting the same questions over and over again.

"How is Aiden?"

"What can you tell us about your son's injuries?"

"Are you expecting any criminal charges?"

"How does it feel to have your son back after all these years?"

"Will you sue May Parker in a civil suit?"

The glasses helped shield his face, made it easier to keep his head held high and walk past them seeming stronger, so much more sure of himself than he was. A few long strides later, he was met by Maria Hill at the entrance of the apartment building. He followed her closely first through the door, then into the elevator car. They left the security guards behind on the ground level.

"You look like shit." She didn't even have her eyes on him but on her phone as she pressed the button for the 4th floor of the building.

"So I've heard." He had to keep himself from reaching for the dirty walls as the elevator rattled into action. His head was throbbing from the weird clanging noises as it made its ascent to the upper levels.

"Anything new?"

She was referring to his little underground meeting earlier that day, he was clear about that. "He had nothing."

Maria's eyebrows shot up and she did take her eyes off her phone then. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Well..." She blew out a long breath. "Well, fuck."

"Yeah."

Tony had refused to take off his glasses, not just because he was effectively hiding behind them but also because the bright neon light in the elevator would have made his eyes hurt.

"Now what?"

Tony's jaw popped in agitation. "I'm all out of ideas, to be honest."

Her eyes were still on him, studying him. "We'll find something."

Yeah, that's what people kept saying but he wasn't all that sure anymore. Maybe this was the time for a different strategy. Maybe this was the time for a deal. Where Clarke was an irrational asshole, Ross on the other hand was a man to be bargained with. He wanted power and control alright, but his first instinct had been to control the Avengers, not to destroy them. Maybe—

"Tony, we'll find something."

"Yeah, I heard you. Any news on the progress with Barnes?"

"We're waiting to hear back from the DA's office."

Well, he couldn't fucking wait for that. The elevator doors opened onto the 4th floor and Tony didn't lose a second to get out of that death trap. The hallway had two, no three of Maria's agents stationed in different spots. Even if he hadn't been to the apartment before, it would have been pretty obvious where he was heading. So this is where Clarke had instructed his own people to keep watch. Not his worst move.

Two officers flanked the door to the apartment, or rather what was left of the frame. The door in fact was gone, yellow police tape the only thing that obstructed the rooms behind it from noisy neighbors' eyes. Tony recognized one of the officers. Something with a J. Jackson, no... Jacobs... No. Jones? It didn't matter. The punk that had his hands on Tony's little boy at the hospital.

"Mr. Stark. This is the site of an active police investigation." The smug expression on his face had Tony's fingers twitch. "It's off-limits to civilians."

One day. One day Tony would get a chance to lay one on that guy and he wouldn't pass it up.

Maria stepped up and produced the court order their lawyers had secured. The kid's stuff was his to take. All of it. As victories went, this was a good one. A few more of those and they might stand a chance.

At least he got the pleasure of the officer's face turning sour as he fished out his phone from the inner pocket of his uniform. "Dawson, you catalog every single item they take!"

Office J-something turned away, already on the phone reporting back to Clarke. They'd have to be quick about this. Another judge could get Clarke an injunction in less than half an hour if they argued that removing the boy's belongings could be messing with their case against May Parker.

One deep breath and he ducked underneath the tape, careful not to step onto any of the debris that still littered the apartment floor. The first thing his eyes were drawn to was the hole in the back wall of the living room where a window used to be. Even now, more than 24 hours after all this had gone down, Tony still didn't really know what had happened inside these walls. Not that the details would change much about the outcome. Barnes had broken down the door, that much was obvious. Barnes had fired at them. There were bullet holes in the walls. Most of the fight must have occurred in the living room. Broken furniture, glass shards, but no sign of blood anywhere. Natasha and Clint really had taken care of that then.

"I'd say take your time and look around but..."

"Yeah." Tony gave a short nod in Maria Hill's direction while his eyes lingered on the one door in the apartment that had remained close. Not the kid's room, but May Parker's own bedroom. "Better be fast about it."

Maria had a hand on his back pushing him along to the room his kid had lived in for these past years, helping him maintain the illusion that he didn't know where he was going. "There are boxes, if you want to pack anything specific. Let me know when you're done and what you want to take. I'll have my agents pack up whatever you need."

"The kid's room."

"Stop right there, Stark!" Jackson-Jacobs-Jones was on his heels. "You're not taking anything! We're getting an order to contest your claim as we speak!"

Tony turned to face him, his expression schooled with cold disinterest. "Got that order with you?" He crooked his head a bit, eyebrows raised just enough that they would peek over the rim of his glasses as Officer J's face turned an impressive shade of magenta. "Didn't think so." He cleared his throat. "Everything in there, Agent Hill."

Maria nodded. "Yes, Sir. Anything else?"

Tony's lip was caught between his teeth but then he shook his head. They couldn't risk that, had to at least appear like they intended to follow the rules. He could only hope that it would be good enough to mask what was going on behind the scenes.

It took him just a few minutes to pack the essentials in the kid's room with the lackey Jones-Jabos had brought along breathing down his neck. Some clothes first. He'd have FRIDAY order a few more things, whatever the boy wanted, but all this... This was stuff that he knew, the stuff he would feel comfortable with.

The one thing Tony would need to find sooner rather than later was the phone. The tracker placed it somewhere in the kid's bedroom. He looked around the desk, pulled open a couple of drawers that had mostly schoolwork in them. He shuffled through the documents expecting the phone to be buried on the bottom of the drawer somewhere but that's not what he found. Instead, he found a dark wooden picture frame. The glass was a little stained with dust but he couldn't tear his eyes from the photograph nonetheless. The kid couldn't have been older than 5 when it was taken. Well, no he couldn't for that were Mary and Richard Parker in the picture with him. Mary had the boy on her lap, arms wrapped around him while the kid snuggled close. Richard stood behind them, smiling broadly into the camera.

There was a knot in his stomach just looking at it, his little boy in the arms of someone else. Strangers when he had been searching for him in every corner of the world. 5 years old at best, little cheeks still round and full. In that picture, he looked a lot more like that two-year-old toddler that Tony had been imagining whenever he had thought of Aiden. All these years—

No. No, he couldn't think about that. Not right now, not any time soon. He had to focus for that enhanced teenager that was still recovering at the Tower who was here right now, needed him. Needed him sharp and focused, even if all of this was impossible and sucked to no end. Even if the boy was determined to think the worst of him.

It took him only a couple more minutes until he finally found the phone in one of the smaller drawers at the top of the desk. Phone and frame wandered into the box along with two of notebooks from the kid's desk, a couple sets of clothes, his backpack, four small Star Wars Models that sat next to the bed as well as the boy's laptop. He had found the set of tools he had given Peter for his birthday in another one of the drawers, stared at them for a few moments, then slammed it shut and made his way back into the living room.

He just nodded at Maria and she waved in one of her agents. "Do you want this all dropped off at the Tower?"

Tony's eyes were still shifting over the rubble the fight had left behind before he forced himself to focus, clutching the box in his hands a little tighter. "No." He cleared his throat, trying to shake the emotions that clung to him at the sight of the apartment. "Compound. Basement level. FRIDAY knows where."

"Alright. We'll finish up here then."

As much as the officers were visibly itching to stop him, they hadn't managed to produce the legal means to do so in time and he left without another look at either of them, couldn't stand to stay another moment in that apartment. The ride back to the Tower seemed just as agonizingly long as the way there. 25 Minutes, almost 30 he should have used to research, to dig his way out of this mess, but he could only sit in the backseat of the Bentley, the box of Peter's things on his lap. He couldn't deny that painful squeeze his heart gave every time his gaze wandered to that dark wooden picture frame. He didn't even see it, the picture, as the frame was facing down.

He needed to get a grip of himself.

Back at the Tower, he rode the elevator up to the 68th floor but hesitated when the doors opened to the penthouse. The living room area was empty. Pepper was either in the office or, well, or taking care of his kid. If she wasn't with the boy, Rhodey would be.

Tony closed his eyes just for a second. He should let them be, give him time. Give himself some more time. So he placed the box on the ground just next to the elevator, fished out the phone as well as the laptop before he instructed FRIDAY to inform Pepper that he had left it there. Tony went to his lab instead. He found Barton sitting on his workbench, his own box right next to him.

"So?"

"It's everything I could find in the time I had." Barton shrugged. "I think you'll be happy with it though."

"Will I?" Tony raised his eyebrows at the agent and flipped off the lid of the box. "Where was this?"

"False bottom of the underwear drawer."

Tony grimaced and sent a rather put-off look in Barton's direction. "You searched through the lady's underwear drawer? Jeez, Clint."

"Hey," the other man shrugged. "It's a common hiding place and I'm not the one that came up with it." He crossed his arms, a more serious expression on his face. "Didn't find anything there actually. Not in her underwear drawer. Was all men's stuff in that particular one."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, May Parker has a drawer full of men's underwear? And that's where she—"

"No, actually. Not sure these were hers." Barton shook his head. "I found documents in a shoebox in the back of her closet, too. Birth certificates. Contracts. These kinds of things. But this..." He pushed Tony's hands away and shuffled through the paper files in the box himself. "It's stuff about corruption. Bribery. Donations. Those kinds of things."

He pulled out a folder, opened it up and pressed it into Tony's hands. There were newspaper articles, copies of court documents, even a request for body-cam footage filed under the Freedom of Information Act.

"What..." Tony shook his head. "What the fuck am I looking at?"

"I think..." Clint blew out a low breath. "I think those were Ben Parker's."

* * *

**#**

* * *

It was the first time since... well, since the last morning in his room in Queens that Peter was all alone. It had just been a day and he couldn't quite wrap his mind around that. How had it only been one day since his whole life had gone belly up? Only about an hour ago, Doctor Cho had dislodged the IV from his hand, given him a bit of a break from the drip when he had promised he would eat. There had been lots of fruit, steamed vegetable, and more soup for lunch and he had regretted that promise then. Would have done anything for a burger and some fries but would have never dared to even suggest it to Pepper. Now though, now he was glad he had battled on. That it had given him a little space, a little more freedom to move.

The bathroom connected to his room— connected to the guestroom— He tried to clear his head, to focus. That room that had unofficially become his over the last few months. The bathroom was bigger than the one in their apartment. With all that room, it still hadn't been a bit of a task not to catch a glimpse of himself in that large mirror above the washbasin. He hadn't been ready but there was only so much he could do to avoid it altogether. He had washed his hands, turned off the faucet, and then with all the willpower he could find within himself, had looked up at his own reflection.

His face was pale. It made the bruise on his temple stand out even more distinct. It was still blue, slightly on the side of purple. Usually, he'd heal faster than this but Doctor Cho had explained to him again, just as she had taken him off the drip, how his energy levels were still low after everything that his body had to compensate in the last week. His hands still wet from the water, he rubbed at his eyes, then his whole face. It didn't hurt but he couldn't ignore the low throbbing in every spot where his face had been cut and bruised. He stayed clear of his neck. It was still bandaged up, some salve was supposed to cool his skin, support the healing, but his skin underneath the bandage throbbed hotly all the same.

He did look like shit, no wonder everyone was freaking out. If this was what he looked with his body healing faster still than average, how bad was May? His eyes stung and he swallowed hard, regretting it right away as his throat throbbed with the strain. Where he had people bending over backward to take care of him, she was all alone.

Peter pulled away from the mirror, his heart aching. There had to be something he could do. Some way he could help her. His hand on the handle of the door he could tell there was a vibe. Nothing strong, just a low humming frequency he could feel in his bones that told him that he wasn't alone any longer.

He hadn't expected her. Of all the people he could think of that might show up in his room, Natasha Romanoff was not all that high up on the list. He'd have assumed Mr. Stark would veto that, but then he didn't really know anymore what the man would do next. She had her back leaned against the wall just next to the door that led out into the corridor, arms crossed in front of her. She didn't look up but there was no doubt in his mind that she had heard him open the door.

The last time he had seen her had been at the hospital only the day before as she had bandaged his wrists. His hands twitched, his right one finding the wrist of his left, fingers softly picking at the bandage that was still wrapped around his skin. It wasn't the same dressing she had put on but he could still feel the pressure of her fingers as they had worked. He didn't know what he would have done, what would have happened if she hadn't been there. She had undoubtedly been his lifeline in there, hadn't just shielded him but actively kept Clarke and his people from exposing him.

She looked up then, turned her eyes to him, but Peter couldn't quite find the courage to look at her directly.

"It's good to see you up on your feet."

He jerked his head in an awkward mix of silent acknowledgment and dismissal. Her concern was genuine. Probably. He didn't need anyone's pity though, instead focused on getting on with it.

"Thank you for..." Peter bit his lip hard, then cleared his throat before he continued. "For what you did at the hospital and... and with the sample. I..." He gave his head a small shake. "Thank you."

She didn't move. Not right away, just stood there, looking. "Don't thank me. That was all Tony and Helen."

That wasn't true. He knew that wasn't true. A queasy feeling made Peter's stomach turn nonetheless, eyes anywhere but on her.

"Though I assume you've thanked them already, right? For managing to keep your cover. For getting you out of there in just a few hours."

"I..." His cheeks burned hot. This conversation had taken such a rapid turn his head was spinning.

"Surely you thanked Pepper. Getting there fast enough, managing to get the judge to order your release. The press aside, without it Clarke might have stuck with his threat, might have thrown Tony out and then there would have been very little for me to do. Very little for anyone to do."

It was like he had a different person in front of him. Not the woman who had been there for him at the hospital, who had told him that he'd be safe. That he would just have to trust in that. Who had held his hand. His knees were weak. Maybe from exhaustion. Maybe... maybe not. Maybe it was that shallow buzz of guilt that was creeping up from his stomach ever since she had started talking.

"Peter—"

"Can you..." He shook his head, swallowed hard, an attempt to keep the queasiness at bay. "Can you... can you not call me that. Please."

She was silent for only a moment. "What do you want me to call you?"

"I..." He rubbed one hand across his face and flinched when the legs of the chair scraped over the ground as she stood up.

"Fuck's sake. Just... Come on." She was next to him in a heartbeat. "Let's just get you back on the bed, okay? Just sit back down."

"It's... it's fine. I'm fine." He didn't resist her guiding him back to bed but made a point to pull his legs up himself when he had sat back down among the sheets. He was okay. He didn't need to be babied. It was just... all of it, it was a lot.

"What are you doing, kid?"

He shook his head. "I... I don't..."

"Do you even know how lucky you got? How reckless you were? Going after Barnes... I mean, are you fucking kidding me?"

"I... I had to." Peter's eyes were burning but he chanced a glance at her anyway, then blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with her. "I had to. He... he wanted to kill us, he... he almost—"

"Okay, pro-tip: when someone tries to kill you, next time: run in the opposite direction, okay?"

He looked away from her, down at his hands. It wasn't fair. They all acted like he was just a little kid when he wasn't. He could still help, just like he had done before in Manhattan or in Germany.

"I told you to stay put." Her voice wasn't raised but so tightly compressed it sure felt just the same as being yelled at. "And you? You run after him and pick up his damn gun?"

He shook his head. It wasn't like he had planned to do that but sitting on his hands hadn't been an option. He had run all out of options. Did she actually want him to apologize for that? He wouldn't. He wasn't sorry. Not for that. There was only one thing he was sorry for.

"Have you... have you seen my aunt?"

She blew out a low huff and sat down.

"You've been at the hospital, right? Have you—"

Without pulling the chair any closer to his bed, she leaned back, arms crossed, her gaze still fixed on him. "I have."

"Is..." His eyes stung. "Is she okay?"

"Maybe you'd know if you hadn't fucking run. Hadn't left her behind in that apartment."

"I... I had to!"

"No, you didn't. The only thing you had to do was to keep your head down!"

He did now. Literally. His head bowed low, eyes unfocused on the sheets.

"What is this?"

Peter blinked away the frustration that was stinging in his eyes and followed her eye line as she stared at the picture that he had popped up on his bedside table.

"It's..." He bit his lip, looking away from it, eyes cast back down. "Just a picture."

"Where did you get this?" Her tone was neutral but the way she monotonously put emphasis on every single word of that sentence had him get defensive.

"Miss Potts gave it to me."

The Widow blew out a shallow huff. "Idiot," she whispered and then he felt her eyes turn to him. "And you believed that?"

Peter shook his head, urging himself not to play into her hand whatever it was that she was planning. "I... I'm not an idiot! I... Don't—"

"Not you," she groaned. "How do you think she got it?"

"Wh—what?"

"Pepper. Where do you think she got that picture?"

He shook his head, not following.

"Is this yours? Your frame?"

Peter's fingers picked at each other. "I... Yeah. Yeah, it's mine."

"So you think she went and got it from the apartment? From your room maybe?"

Heat rose to his cheeks, his eyes still burning. "I... I don't know what—"

"Jeez, kid. Who do you think went to that apartment to get your stuff?"

"I... I don't know. I... I guess they... they would have hired someone or... I... I don't know."

"For someone who is supposed to be super clever, you can be really dense. Do you just not want to see it?"

Peter bit his lip hard, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. It was clear what she was insinuating. Even if that was true. Even if Mr. Stark had gone to the apartment himself, had looked through his desk and found that picture then—

He tried to keep his breathing measured. It did sound like something the man would do. Rummage through his things. There had been clothes in the box. Some of his stuff. The backpack. He hadn't asked Miss Potts for his laptop but now he could make an educated guess where that had ended up.

She startled him as she reached for the frame. The way she held it, that she had her fingers on it in the first place, irked him. A lot.

"You know what they did? They bought you. From a bunch of criminals who traffic children. That's who these people are. They didn't care about what was legal, they just took what they wanted to have."

Anger was burning brighter in his chest. "That—That's not—" He shook his head. "They took... took care of me and... and made sure I was okay. They—"

They had loved him. They had. His parents. May and Ben. They had done everything, gone as far as facing jail time to keep him safe. Had... had died for him. Her eyes were still on him and he pulled up his knees to his chest, struggling to find just a little bit of shelter from her stare.

"There was this boy I met a couple of days ago that outright threatened me if I were ever to hurt Tony again." She crooked her head, eyes narrow. "Where did he go?"

Peter rubbed a hand across his eyes, willed himself not to cry. He didn't want to cry in front of her, couldn't give her that victory.

"These people," she waved the frame in her hand. "They made his life an agony for more than a decade. They might have not outright stolen you, but they made damn well sure that you didn't find your way back to where you belong. And it's their side you pick? May Parker you ask for?"

His face was pressed against the top of his knees, curled in on himself. The beat of his heart was throbbing in his ears so loudly, it seemed to echo off the walls. It wasn't true. Well, not really true. May... she didn't know. She couldn't have known. Not about his... his DNA. They all acted like he was this deprived, mistreated charity case that was in need of rescue. Like he hadn't been loved. Like his home had been a lie. May, she just... she did her best and she didn't deserve—

"Tony is trying to save your ass, kid."

"I don't need him to save me!" His voice was high and loud, no control left whatsoever. "I can—"

"Don't need him? Well, about 24 hours ago the way you clung to your dad in that hospital, desperate for his help looked a little different."

"I..." He shook his head, taken aback by her bluntness. "Don't... don't call him that, I..."

She raised her eyebrows. "Your father then?"

"That's... no, that's not—" Peter shook himself, trying to get that idea out of his head.

"Well, he is. He is your father, boy, and you should be thanking whatever twist of fate has made it him. If it wasn't for him you'd be stuck in an enhanced cell next to Steve, if not shipped off to the Raft already. And the fact that he is even willing to help that woman? Most people in his position would take the stand to make the case for the prosecution. Tony turning against her, that's what would get her that life sentence."

"Hey!"

Peter hadn't even registered the door, hadn't realized that the Colonel had busted into the room.

"What the hell is going on?"

Romanoff rose from the chair, stood tall opposite him.

"Pete, you okay?"

Peter's knees were still pulled up high, one arm slung around his legs as he rubbed the other across his face, trying to pull himself together. He couldn't think straight. If... if Mr. Stark were to... If he testified at May's trial, Tony Stark could sway any jury, couldn't he? If... if he decided that she needed to pay for... for what all these other people had done—

"Nat." Rhodey's eyes flickered back and forth between Peter and the spy. "The fuck are you doing in here?"

Her eyes were still on Peter. He could still feel her stare. "Looking for the man of the house."

"Well, he's not here, is he?" Goosebumps spread across Peter's skin as Rhodey stepped up next to the bed, one hand resting on Peter's shoulder.

"No. He's not." She had her arms crossed, face blank.

"I thought..." Rhodey gave his head a small shake. "I thought you were going to stick to the hospital."

"I was," she shrugged. "Can't really hang around there 24/7 though. Plus, there are new developments that will have me refocus my time elsewhere."

"New developments," the Colonel asked, his voice cracking. "What new developments?"

"Barnes will stand trial. They moved him to underground cells at the headquarter. They'll fast track it. Might start as early as next week."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. He sat up a little taller, his eyes on the Colonel. Barnes would be on trial. What... what would that mean?

Rhodey's lips were pressed together tightly, as he breathed deeply, digesting what he had just heard. "Does Tony know?"

"No." She pursed her lips. "I assume he also doesn't know yet that May Parker has been indicted for child abduction in connection with identity fraud about an hour ago."

* * *

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_[author's note: Alright, I was a little late with this one. I do suck at sticking to a deadline. Next one should be up faster. Have an awesome weekend, guys, and thank you as always for the lovely comments and following the story along!]_


	65. We Know What We Know - Chapter 65

**Chapter 65 - We Know What We Know**

Tony had made FRIDAY darken the windows completely and instead had her turn the light in the lab all the way up to 100% brightness. It was a different working atmosphere, undisturbed by the changing light outside. It helped him focus, lose himself in the work without any way to tell if an hour had gone by or five. After Clint had left for the Compound, Tony immersed himself in all the files they had secured from the Parker's.

It had been years since Tony had actually worked off of paper documents. While he had FRIDAY scan every single sheet of paper - no matter if a handwritten note or official from - made her categorize them and then browse his own files as well as the internet for any connected data she could uncover, he kept the originals fanned out on the floor of the lab and shuffled through them in the hopes of finding a timeline. There had to be a golden thread. Some of the documents dated back years. There were financial records of different businesses, a restaurant, couple of car dealerships; newspaper articles about trade fairs, a local convenience store going under, a hand full of hit-and-runs; seemingly random files that dated back more than a decade, all based in New Hampshire. Then a clear cut in 2009. There were less than 10 files compiled around incidents between 2009 and 2016 spread out across New York state.

The application made under the Freedom of Information Act was the first of the files he examined. A request for body-cam footage for officers Sinclair and Fagan was filed on March the 3rd 2015 for the entirety of both officers' shifts on April 19th in 2008. The day of the accident. Tony shook his head and scoffed. The "accident". There had been nothing but paper files in the box that Clint had brought back from the apartment though. If the request had been granted then the relevant footage had to be somewhere else either in the apartment or a separate hiding place.

He was so deeply immersed in his thoughts, he didn't even register the elevator doors opening. Only when the footsteps were ganging up on him, did he register that he wasn't alone anymore.

"Cheerful in here." Natasha had her eyebrows raised at him.

Tony just gave a quick glance in her direction, didn't even bother to check Pepper's expression. Her face was bound to still be colored with disapproval after that scene earlier when she had physically kicked him out of the kid's room. His legs were stiff and his back ached but he wouldn't let it show, pushed himself off the floor as gracefully as he could manage. Natasha risking the trip to the Tower meant there was news. Vital information.

"They indicted her," Natasha said before he had even managed to stand.

His left calf was cramping but that was of minor importance now. Not that the indictment came as a surprise. They had expected this. It had been inevitable that it would come to this. Still, certainty was one thing, but the actuality of it happening another.

"Your poker face is shit." The spy didn't move, solid as a gargoyle. "You need to work on that. I've seen you do a lot better."

Tony's hands rubbed across his face then through his hair, not looking at either of them. Pepper stood off to the side of Natasha, her arms crossed in front of her.

"You also need a shower. Something to eat. Rest." Pepper sounded as exhausted as he felt and still, he couldn't help that his stomach ached with annoyance.

Just out of spite he reached for the cup of cold coffee on his workbench and downed it with one chuck, then turned his back for he couldn't help but grimace at the bitter taste. Pepper sighed, then stepped closer to him.

"You don't have to like her. You don't even have to pretend to like her. God knows, I'm not a fan. This isn't about her."

"I know that, Pep."

She grabbed his wrist and turned him towards her. "What are we going to do if she doesn't accept the legal help? What if Clarke offers her a deal? I mean," she groaned and shook her head. "He will offer her a deal. What if she takes it. A few years with a plea bargain or the risk of never getting out of prison?"

"He can't offer that deal," Natasha chimed in conversationally. "Only the DA can offer that deal."

"I know that." Pepper's tone was bitingly sharp. "Let's not play semantics."

Tony's head popped up, startled by the hostility that suddenly felt overwhelmingly intense. Pepper didn't look at him, eyes glued to the fanned out documents on the floor. Natasha though met his gaze head-on.

His eyes narrowed on the spy. "What's going on?"

"May Parker is a distraction, nothing more." She didn't shy away from him. "We need to focus on Barnes. If we can't reign in Ross—"

"We can deal with more than one issue at a time. Disregarding May Parker will leave me with a freaked out Spiderling and I have no interest in that." His eyes shifted back to Pepper but she was still avoiding both of them. "I need her to work with our legal defense. The worst-case scenario would be Clarke using her as leverage against us."

Natasha had her head crooked to the side minimally. "He can't if we refuse to play his game."

Pepper's head shot up, her face hard. "This is not up for discussion."

But the Widow had her eyes still on him. "Tony—"

"You heard the lady." His voice was far more leveled than he thought possible. "We're not negotiating on this."

The corners of Natasha's mouth twitched but she gave a small nod in Pepper's direction. "She's still at the hospital. It's unlikely that they will move her any time soon even with the indictment. Not before she has recovered significantly."

Tony felt like wrapping his arms around himself but stayed tall. "He... he wants to see her. Maybe if..." Only the idea made his stomach turn. The idea of the kid leaving the Tower. If he would have to leave at all, the hospital was the last place Tony would feel comfortable taking him. The NYPD was still swarming all over that place. Barnes was still there.

"How about a video call?" Pepper cleared her throat. "Natasha, I assume this is something you could set up?"

Tony shook his head before the spy could even answer. "We can't blow her cover."

For the first time since they had walked into the lab, Pepper met his eyes. "They moved Barnes out of the hospital."

Tony's mouth fell open, his eyes shifted to Natasha. "Raft?"

She shook her head. "Trial."

A cold shiver went down Tony's back. His mouth clapped shut and he nodded along with his own thoughts. It was the best they could have hoped for. It would give them an actual chance to beat them in a public trial. "Alright." If they played their cards right. He swallowed hard. "Good."

Pepper huffed out a breath. "The only thing of interest for us at the hospital now is May Parker."

He considered it for just a second, then shook his head. "We can't, Pep. Nat's the one who took the kid's sample. If they get wind of—"

"Alright." Pepper held her hand up, stopping him. "Let's plant a phone then. Bribe someone to plant a phone."

Tony shook his head, fingers still twitching, but he forced himself to stop. "We can't be found meddling. They are just waiting for us to make a mistake. No, we..." He threw his head back with a sigh. "We'll have to do this in an official capacity."

"But..." Pepper blinked a couple of times, then frowned. "But that would be public record. The press would find out. It... it would be everywhere."

"Yeah." She stared at him like she was expecting a little more of an explanation and Tony blew out a low breath. "It'd be me openly throwing my weight behind her. Possibly shifting public perception on her."

Her eyebrows were drawn together and she stepped a little closer to him, a hand on his arm. "Honey..." She shook her head. "I... I don't know about that."

"We need her to trust us."

Her lips pressed flat, Pepper didn't answer right away. "Her... her to trust us?" She sucked in a lung full of air, reaching for control. "_Her_ to trust _us_?"

He shrugged. "Trust _me_, if you like the sound of that any better."

Her pull on his arm was an attempt to get his attention like she didn't have it all along. "What reason would she have not to trust us? We're paying for her lawyers."

"We_ offered _to pay for her lawyers. We also have the kid and she has no one, is looking at decades in prison. She doesn't trust anyone right now and that's not a wrong impulse."

"I... I'm sorry. The legal defense is one thing but... but she had... had Addy for a decade, I..." Her breathing was measured but not quite in control no matter how hard she tried. "To... to publicly... publicly endorse her, to pretend like all these years she didn't—"

"We're not endorsing her."

"That's what it will look like." Her eyes were wide, gestures wild.

"It will look like we're putting the kid's interest above our own." His patience was wearing thin. This was hard enough. He didn't want to argue his way through this with Pepper as well. "Which is what we are doing. It'll look like compassion for a woman who lost her own son as well as her brother- and sister-in-law in an attack that was designed to kill my son. Compassion for a woman who had to fight off the Winter Soldier because he was targeting Aiden."

"Well, if she hadn't had kept a kid that wasn't hers—"

"Pep." He grabbed her by both arms, pulled her out of her rant. "If she doesn't trust us, she'll find someone else to trust. Worst-case scenario would be Clarke." He let go of her. "We can't afford that."

Pepper didn't look at him, kept her eyes cast down, lips forcefully pressed onto each other. They had just started to make up again and now they had even more hurdles to overcome, things to work through.

"It's..." Tony blew out a long breath, taking control of his agitation. "It's fine. Just... just have the lawyers petition the court for a meeting. I'll... I'll tell the kid. About the indictment. He's already—" Tony shook his head at himself. He was doing what was right for the boy, he was. They'd get past this. They just had to. "I can be the bad guy in this, that's okay. Just maybe... maybe you could stay with him for the night, make sure he's okay and—"

Pepper's eyes met his. "He already knows."

"Wh—what?"

"I told him."

Tony turned sharply to face Natasha directly. He opened his mouth to speak but his mind was still trying to catch up. "You... you did what?"

Her back was straight, arms resting by her side. "I told him that she was indicted."

"You said a little more than that, didn't you..." Pepper was livid. She was positively fuming and all of a sudden everything clicked into place. It wasn't even Tony she was upset with, at least not the most.

"What the fuck did you do?" He looked back and forth between the two women.

"That boy is going down a spiral of self-pity and blind righteousness that puts _your _self-destructive habits to shame. It needs to stop before he hurts himself and all of you right along with it."

There were no words. Tony could not think of a single thing to say to this, his throat dry as he went to storm past both of them, one thought overriding everything else. He had to check on his kid. Had to make sure that he was okay, but Pepper held him back with a hand on his arm.

"Rhodey is with him. He's... he's alright. He'll be alright."

Natasha threw her hands into the air, shaking her head at both of them. "Of course, he will be."

He bounced off of Pepper and just stopped short of putting his hands on Natasha. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? You have no right—"

"The fuck am I doing? The fuck are _you_ doing?" She pointed a finger at his chest, not in the slightest intimidated by his anger.

"That's my son you're messing with!"

"He's not just your son, Tony. He's a highly enhanced vigilante with worse impulse control than his father, which is saying something."

"You should be lucky for that little impulse control I have right now." His hands were balled up into fists to keep himself from reaching for her.

"Well, that little bit of control would go a long way for that boy."

"Romanoff, I'm warning you, if I ever get another whiff of you—"

"Tony. Calm your mother-hen temper tantrum and fucking listen to me! You need to get that boy in line or—"

"Get him in line? Get him _in line_? He's not one of your little soldiers! He's a—"

"Fuck's sake... if I have to hear _'He's just a kid!'_ one more time I'm going to have an aneurysm." Her hands didn't push him back but standing this close to her, he could see some cracks in her cold, matter-of-fact facade. "Yeah, he's a kid, but that's just where our problems start."

"Our problems?" His pulse was racing, hot anger pulsing through him but she didn't flinch away. Natasha locked eyes with him, stared at him until he took a step back, not sure what to do with his hands as he couldn't find it in himself to actually strangle her for the nerve she had. He ran them through his hair instead.

"I told you I would look out for him." Her voice was low and measured and that somehow just made it all worse. "I swore I would protect him."

Tony's eyes flickered to Pepper who had her arms crossed, not looking at either of them. Natasha was quiet, waiting for him. It wasn't until he stared right back at her that she continued to talk.

"I went up to that apartment, door pulled off its hinges, window blown out, the whole apartment was a battlefield and that _little_ son of yours was hanging on the outer wall of the building, blood dripping from his arm, May Parker unconscious on the floor. I told him to get inside. I told him to stop. He could have stopped at any point after we got there. But he didn't."

Goosebumps that traveled down his spine made Tony want to turn away, but she wouldn't have that, made sure he was looking at her.

"He stood in that street, Barnes' damn gun pointed at Steve and refused to move even an inch. I tried. I tried to make him leave with me, to get him out of there but that boy of yours has no self-preserving instincts whatsoever. I thought you had a problem, but this..." She shook her head. "Tony, he's not just a little boy, he's a little boy that lacks any and every sense of understanding for the consequences of his actions. He's never been taught how to deal with his powers and no kid should have to figure out abilities like he had to on their own. He needs bounds and limits and he needs them fast. He's going to kill himself if he keeps at this. You can't keep drugging him with that tranquilizer until the trials are over."

"I..." At last, Tony flinched back from her. "I'm not—"

She waved her arm, stopped him in his tracks. "Not complaining about the side effects though, are you?"

He did pull himself away then, a quick glance in Pepper's direction. That wasn't true. That wasn't... entirely true. He didn't drug the kid, not to control him. He would never do that though the thought of what the boy would do when his strength was back... Tony could still see the scene right in front of his eyes: Rogers, Wilson, and Barton in Brooklyn and the kid right opposite them. Peter had been buzzing with a need for justice. His "justice". Had refused to back down, refused to listen to Tony, instead attacked Wilson and Rogers over and over again until it had almost been too late for them to get out of there. All of them.

May Parker was going to be sent to prison. It was going to happen, the only question was for how low. The prospect of what Peter would do then made Tony's vision blur with anxiety.

Pepper's arms were tightly wrapped around herself, the lines on her face still twisted in anger. "That boy has lost everything he knew in just a couple of days. He needs peace and quiet to get back on his feet, not a self-righteous lecture from someone he hardly knows or trusts!"

Natasha didn't speak for a moment and the lab fell quiet. Only Tony's steppes echoed off the walls as he paced up and down.

"He needed a wake-up call." Her voice was firm and she stood tall. "I understand that it's hard for you." She glanced from Tony over to Pepper. "For both of you. If it means that I have to be the bad agent in this, then so be it."

Pepper let her arms drop, annoyance swinging in her voice. "Why does anyone have to be a bad anything. He doesn't need to get strong-armed and controlled. He needs to work through his trauma, preferably with a professional. He needs to trust us to do what is best for him. After everything he went through, it's normal that he would be impulsive, only trusting himself."

"Trauma therapy with a professional." Natasha looked at her like she had just suggesting training rhinos to show-jump. "A majority of his trauma is connected to his abilities. Good luck explaining that to a therapist."

"We'll make them sign an NDA." Pepper's breathing was heavy. "They wouldn't dare break confidentiality. They'd be ruined if—"

Natasha shook her head. "Repercussions for breaking the NDA will not help the boy once his secret is out there."

"She's right." Tony swallowed hard. "It's not a risk we can take."

Pepper turned towards him, eyes wide. "Tony, he needs help. We can't do this on our own."

"I know! I know that..." His feet wouldn't stop pacing.

Natasha cleared her throat. "If only we had someone on the team who..."

That did it. That made Tony freeze. "No..."

"...had some experience with post-traumatic stress therapy who..."

"No!"

"...we could trust to keep the kid's secret."

He stepped back up to her, eyes wide. "There's no way in hell that Wilson comes anywhere near him! The kid is terrified of him."

Natasha crooked her head at him. "I'm sure with time—"

"Wilson hunted him through half of Manhattan and he ended up stabbed!"

"Come on, Tony." She was looking for his attention, the tone of her voice imploring him to look at her. "None of us knew that—"

"No! No way! Not happening!"

"Wait..." Pepper stepped between them, a hand on Tony's arm. "Sam is why he got stabbed? What the hell—"

The agent got a little closer, determined to be heard. "He's not why the boy got stabbed."

Pepper's eyes were wide, now focused on Natasha, clearly not willing to let this go. "That's not what it sounded like. Why was he even chasing him? How dare he chase a 13-year-old..."

"We didn't know, did we?" Tony could almost admire how soft the Widow managed to keep her voice when she was addressing Pepper, like that would help in cooling the mood.

"A 13-year-old boy after he helped you guys as well! Who does—"

Tony groaned. "Alright, just stop. Both of you!" He had turned and pulled Pepper away from Natasha, getting some distance between them. "Unless we can make sure the kid is safe, physically, there is no point in arguing about any of this. If we can't handle Clarke and Ross, potential access to a therapist will not be the worst problem we face. We'll need to set up that meeting with May Parker."

Pepper was right in front of him, blinking rapidly. "Tony—"

"It's the only way. We can't... we can't risk the kid. I can't... I won't!"

Her hands were on him, his arms first then his face. She cupped his cheek, then leaned in, her own head cradled in the crook of his neck.

"It'll be fine." His voice wasn't even steady enough to convince himself. "We'll just... we'll do what we can for May Parker and he'll..." Tony swallowed hard, then pulled Pepper a little closer against him. "It's what he needs to trust us, so that's what we will do." He nodded to himself. "If it takes a public stand, then that's what we'll do."

"Tony..." Natasha's eyes hadn't left them and her tone made it clear that she wasn't happy with the direction this conversation was taking. "It's not that easy. This is not just about what May Parker did."

Pepper frowned then pushed herself off him, her head turned towards the spy. "What do you mean?"

Natasha's eyes were glued to Tony though. "If you back her.. If it becomes public knowledge that you do, that you let the boy spend time with her, if you go as far as support her in the trial, everything will be put on the table. You will need to explain why Barnes was after him. How you know that it wasn't her and her family that stole the boy. It means that you will have to publicize what happened with Stane. All of it. It means you have to tell the public that you have been lying to them for over 8 years about what really happened when you became Iron Man. How your business partner really died. You'll throw SHIELD under the bus, you'll throw yourself under the bus. You sure, you're ready for that? Ready to risk that for May Parker of all people?"

"It's not for her. I don't—" He groaned, his feet twitching to pace again but Pepper's hands were on him, holding him steady. "We have no choice. All of that will have to come out in Barnes' trial anyway."

Natasha studied him, her eyes flickering back and forth between him and Pepper. "This might backfire, Tony. There is a real possibility that public opinion will turn against you."

"We have no other choice." Nausea lay heavy in his stomach. It was going to be a delicate affair. They'd need to plan when they would bring out which details in court as well as to the public.

Natasha hadn't moved. Her stoic frame only a reminder of how much Tony's nerves were fighting to let panic take control. "There is a chance that May Parker will refuse you when she finds out why her son really died. Why she almost died."

Tony tried to center himself, deep breaths to take control. "We... we'll find a way. We'll just have to be smart about it. If... if we set up a meeting where she can see the kid, where she gets to remind herself why she did all this, then she'll take the legal counsel and then... then we'll have to tell her."

Natasha tilted her head a little. "_We_'ll have to tell her?"

"Me." Tony's voice was shaking, control so far out of his reach, who knew if he'd ever get it back. "I'll have to tell her."

"Tony..." Pepper pulled at his arm but he stayed firmly in his spot.

He needed to get a grip on himself. This wouldn't do. "It's my responsibility."

"It's not!" Pepper's hand moved him so he was looking right at her. "This was not on you."

"Pep—"

"No, that's not happening! This is insane! You might as well have the boy tell her! If this is your fault I guess he's just as guilty!"

"Come on..." he groaned.

"She's right, Tony. There is nothing to be gained from you being there. Or the kid being there. Get a grief counselor and let the lawyers handle this. She will not want to see you."

"Well, it's not like I want to be there, is it?" Temper was slowly overtaking the queasy feeling in his stomach. "It's still my responsibility to—"

Natasha threw her arms up. "Oh, here we go again."

"Well, it is! I won't be hiding from the consequences of—"

"Tony, just stop." Natasha held her hand out towards him and somehow it worked like a charm, stopping him in his tracks. "You want to ignore me when it comes to the kid, fine. But listen to me on this. She might not even want to see the _kid_ until she had a chance to cool down. This needs neutrality."

He turned away from her to Pepper instead. His girl's eyes were wide and pleading, irritatingly on Natasha's side. "Alright. Fine."

"You have your hands full with the kid and Barnes." Natasha's lecture bugged him but he couldn't deny that there was truth in it. "You can't be everywhere at once."

"I..." Pepper held his gaze, then swallowed hard. "I'll call Brian. Have them petition the court."

Tony gave a sharp nod. "Okay."

"We'll... we'll have to debrief them." Pepper hesitated a beat. "Stane. Barnes. All that."

He nodded again. The lawyers would need time to set everything up, but the prospect of going through all of that...

"I can debrief them." Pepper's voice was soft and she stepped a little closer to him again. "Honey, it's going to be okay. I'll go and call Brian. You can stay with Addy and I—"

"No." He cleared his throat. "No, I have... I have things to go through here." He bit his lip, pointing towards the fanned out documents. "Plus, he... he doesn't want to see me right now and—"

"Tony—"

"Just call the lawyers. Rhodey's with him. He's safe with Rhodey and—"

"Hey..." Pepper pulled him closer. "I know this morning was—" She slammed her mouth shut, then turned towards Natasha. "Do you mind?"

"We're not really done here, are we..." Natasha pulled her attention away from Pepper and focused on Tony instead. "They will fast-track Barnes' trial. We need to prepare for that."

"Right." Tony nodded but his hand came up, keeping Pepper close to his side. "We'll talk about that just... go downstairs. Take a nap. Eat. We'll talk after."

Natasha stared at him, face unmoving. "A nap? It's 6 pm."

"Romanoff..." Tony blew out a long, annoyed breath.

"Fine." She turned on her heel and stalked towards the elevator.

Pepper was still right next to him, her voice no more than a whisper. "Downstairs?"

"The Avengers floors," Tony whispered back.

The elevator door closed behind Natasha and just as they did, Pepper cleared her throat, shuffling a little away from him. "I thought we had those floors cleared and reallocated as staff offices and overnight rooms".

"We talked about doing that."

Pepper's expression didn't change. She just looked at him. "You kept the Avengers housing floors?"

He wasn't in the mood to discuss this of all things, so he just shrugged.

"We built them a whole Compound upstate and you still kept those floors?"

"We have an interplanetary crisis waiting to happen. I thought they might come in handy at some point." Tony gestured towards the door. "Case in point."

"But..." She shook her head, flabbergasted. "We discussed this. We agreed—"

"Pep, is this really a priority right now?"

Her hand flinched back from him as if she had been burnt. "I... no. No, I guess not." She pulled her shoulders back, trying to collect herself.

"Just... you go and call Brian. I will just..." His eyes flickered over to the documents that were still spread out across the lab floor. "I still have work to do."

Pepper shook her head, not so much to contradict him it seemed but to focus. "Honey, you need to go and talk to him, okay? He... you can't abandon him right now! He needs—"

"I'm not abandoning him." With Pepper half an arm's length away there was nothing to stop him from pacing again. Not far, just up to his workbench to pick up his coffee mug only to remember that it was empty already. "I'm giving him space. Time to think."

"Tony, you're the only one here he truly trusts. Rhodey's been here a day. I... I've been here for less than a week."

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here. He just..." It wasn't that simple. He might have been around but all that had done was giving him more time to screw things up. "Let's just... let's just arrange that whole thing with the aunt and... and I'll tell him when we have confirmation."

Pepper swallowed hard but nodded in the end. "Okay."

Tony was leaning on the workbench, his thoughts going in circles. "What else did she say?"

Pepper's feet shuffled back and forth but she didn't answer.

"Natasha." He turned back and faced her straight on. "You said the indictment wasn't all she said."

"I..." Pepper shook her head. "I wasn't there. Rhodey only overheard the end of it so—"

"Why was nobody with him?" His chest was full with all the agitation he forcefully tried to keep out of his voice. "I asked you to stay with him! I told you I don't—"

"Rhodey gave him some privacy to brush his teeth and things. Come on, Tony..." She didn't move, clearly waiting for him to give in. "Just talk to him."

"I will." Just not right now. "I will when he's had time to—"

"He doesn't need time, he needs you there. The stability, reassurance that he's safe and cared for."

"Well, maybe I need the time." He felt the dam break and there was very little in him that could hold back the bottled-up frustration. "Maybe I'm not ready to go back up there, to have him pine for that woman, to have him pick her every time, I—"

Tony slammed his mouth shut. He needed to build a fucking bridge and get over it but he was so far away from that he had not even applied for the right permit for that hypothetical bridge yet.

"You don't have that luxury, Tony. Not right now. I..." She blew out a shaky breath as she walked after him. "I know this sucks. I hate this, too. I hate all of this."

Tony didn't hesitate. He did a sharp 180° turn and stepped up to her, pulled her close. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be asking you to do this when I can't—"

"Shh, stop." Her hands ran up and down his back. "We'll make this work. I..." She shuffled on her feet a bit but did let go of him. "Whatever you need, okay? Both of you."

"Right." Tony closed his eyes, let himself be swept up by her presence. They still had each other. Things couldn't be all that bad as long as they still had each other. "I love you, honey."

"I know that." Pepper had her head cushioned on Tony's shoulder. She stayed quiet for a couple of beats. "Those documents... is that... is that the stuff on Ross?"

Tony followed her line of vision all the way to the files that were still waiting for him on the lab floor. "Those are Ben Parker's."

She stiffened, then her head shot up. "What?"

"Well, we think they probably are. They are from the apartment."

Pepper pushed herself off him with enough strength that he let her go. She crouched down next to them, taking in the different sections Tony had broken them up into.

"Ben Parker's?"

"That's what Clint thinks. Just from where he pulled them from in the bedroom. Apparently nowhere near the aunt's things."

Pepper frowned. "What are they?"

If only he knew. "A bunch of different things. I... I'm trying to find a connection I just... I don't really see a common threat. I had FRIDAY scan it and sift through everything she can find to see if there's a connection."

"Tony..." Pepper gave her head a subtle shake and looked up at him. "I... I get why this might be intriguing but..." She glanced back at the documents and then up to him again. "Is this really a priority right now?"

He blinked, a little taken aback. "I... I mean, I just... I don't know. I don't know what this is. Unless I can figure out how all of this is connected, I won't know if it's helpful."

"Maybe... maybe just ask May Parker? When... If things work out that she takes us up on the offer and all that."

"Pep, I'm not sure if May Parker even knows that these exist. It's—"

"Honey." She grabbed him by both arms, eyes intent on him. "Unless you think that Ben Parker had any connection to Ross, this is not something you should focus on right now. As... as intriguing as I'm sure those files are."

Tony's mouth opened to argue but the words froze in his mouth as he took in the dark circles under Pepper's eyes, the line carved by worry and pain on her pale face. "Right. Yeah... no, you're right of course."

"You told me we need to get something on Ross and with that trial for Barnes coming up we need to move fast."

Tony nodded along with her. She was right. He'd started down that rabbit hole when he had a potentially life-altering battle ahead of him.

"I will. I know. You're right. I just... I got distracted but you're right... there's no time for this, no time to—"

"Shhh." She pressed her finger onto his lips. "You'll find a way out. I know you will."

He was silent until she pulled her finger away. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Pep."

Her lips pulled into the ghost of a smile. "I love you, too." She tilted her head a bit and Tony planted a kiss into her hair. "We'll just have to stick together. I'll think of something." Pepper's voice was solemn but sincere. "For the May Parker thing so you can focus on Ross. I'm sure there's something that will distract the press. Get the heat off the kid."

"There's always Barnes."

"Right."

Tony huffed out a low breath. "I'll get Natasha back in here. Figure out what the strategy will be. Compound tomorrow still on?"

"Yeah." Pepper pulled away a bit but only so she could look at him. "Helen said he's strong enough for the cradle. It'll be tiring but at least his arm should be okay after that. With all that pain gone. She said one session no more."

There was a strong urge in him to look away whenever she brought up the kid but he tried to be tougher than that. "He eating?"

"Yeah, he's eating."

"How... how about the drip?"

Pepper's face was soft, except her eyes that shone way too sad. "He's mostly off it. Helen said a couple more hours tonight. A couple more tomorrow morning and then we'll see how he's feeling after the cradle."

"Alright." Tony didn't know what to do with his hands so he buried them in the pockets suit pants he was still wearing. "Does he... does he know? About the Compound and things? I mean, I know we mentioned the cradle before but he was so out of it."

"You can just come and talk to him about it, honey." Her eyebrows were closely knitted together, quite openly imploring him to do just that.

"No, I..." It was a bad idea. He didn't trust himself to keep it together and the kid didn't need any more drama. He needed to recover, to rest and—

"Honey..."

"Will you stay with him tonight?"

Pepper's head was tilted again, concern on her face. "You need to rest, too."

"I'll get some rest. I have some things to look at first. I just don't want him to be alone. I don't want him to start coming up with dumb ideas."

"Dumb ideas?"

Tony shook his head. "You heard Natasha. He thinks he can fix things and—"

"Come up for dinner then. I know you want to see him."

"I can't, Pep. I need... I'll just lash out at him again and he doesn't need that right now."

Her eyes were sad and Tony couldn't really tell if it was pity or if he had just let her down.

"Ross is the priority." He pushed past her and sunk down to his knees next to the files. "I'll talk to Natasha and we'll come up with a plan."

Pepper stood behind him, watching him as he collected the fanned out documents one by one.

"Alright. I'll be upstairs then. I'll stay with him after I called the lawyers."

He nodded, not turning back around. There was another minute of silence until Pepper's steps echoed through the lab. By the time the elevator doors closed behind her, Tony got to his feet, the stack of documents in his hands. He dumped them back into the cardboard box, stalked over to his wall panels, and locked them in there. There would be time for this. There would be time to look into all of that once he had made sure his boy was safe. Once Ross was taken care of.

"FRI, tell the Widow to get back up here."

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[author's note: Thank you guys as always for reading, favoriting the story and leaving comments.

I'm struggling a bit with the current chapters but I'm hoping I won't have to make you wait too long ;)]


	66. Hate Is Easy, Love Is Harder - Chapter66

**Chapter 66 - ****Hate Is Easy, Love Is Harder**

Tony's arms hurt. The fingers of his right hand kept cramping. It was just a reminder of how much time he had recently spent behind a keyboard or studying documents that his body was not accustomed to the strain of a long session of active workshop tinkering. Still, there was something so grounding about this kind of work that he almost relished in the small spikes of pain as the fingers of his right hand cramped again.

Those damn shooters. The web fluid had clogged them up completely. He had never removed the still half-filled vials when he had stuffed the kid's suit into one of the wall panels the previous week. How had it only been a week? It felt more like a month since he had made Peter Parker take off that suit. Since he had banished him from the Tower.

Tony huffed out a low breath. He'd been a fool.

His talk with Natasha had been a brief one. She had filled him in on everything they knew about Barnes, which wasn't much other than that the NYPD had moved the soldier from the hospital into one of the basement cells of the police's headquarter.

Tony had his back to his workbench, his elbows braced against the surface. "Is there any line of communication set up?"

"We have Clint's two contacts but can only use them sparingly. We'll try to get word to Cap about the trial." Natasha stood directly opposite him, her arms crossed in front of her. The scowl on her face hadn't lifted ever since she had reentered the lab.

His neck was killing him. One of his hands rubbed roughly against the tightly wound muscles, trying to ease the strain. Maybe he should sleep. Not for long. An hour, maybe two. That should be enough.

He tried to concentrate on the issues at hand instead. "Any intel on what they'll do with Rogers?"

"No."

"If Ross wanted to send him to the Raft wouldn't he have done so by now?"

"Maybe." Natasha didn't move, her stance stoic. "It's not Germany. Maybe this was too public for them to have him simply disappear. It's still Steve. People still love him."

"Right," Tony huffed.

"Those who don't want him to pay for his indiscretions. Publicly."

She wasn't wrong. There was very little middle ground when it came to Captain America. People adored him. Or they didn't. Tony shook his head, unwilling to figure out where he'd find himself on that considerably small spectrum.

They only had a limited amount of topics to discuss, which was part of the problem. He was no closer to solving this shit than he had been before the Rogues had reappeared. He sent Natasha back to her floor for some rest before she would meet up with Clint at the Compound while he vowed to continue his work on a solution to their problems with Ross. And Clarke.

Even with Barnes' trial looming and the deadline for finding anything to bring Ross down getting closer and closer, Clarke was still a top priority. A threat they would need to tackle fast. Best-case would be taking both men out at once but so far Tony didn't have anything that would stick on either of them.

He had gone through his notes. He had gone through everything he had collected on Ross. It wasn't even that he didn't have receipts of Ross' misdeeds, they were simply unusable. Bribes, intimidation, promotions and careers ruined when people had crossed him. Lives in ruins of those who had not done as he had ordered. It was all right there, but Ross had been too good, had always placed someone else in the line of fire to protect himself. It was a clear pattern but to unseat the Secretary of State, Tony needed more. To put him behind bars, he would need a miracle, a mistake, something.

The frustration of his uselessness had brought him to where he was now, bent over the workbench fiddling with the kid's web-shooters. He had just needed something to clear his mind, something that would help him think his way through this mess and he was best at that when he was tinkering.

He had needed a task where his hands could just be busy, could just work while his mind was free to rattle on. No updates, nothing that required him to pay attention, that would require him to think, so when he pulled the Spider-suit out of the wall panel it was really just because it was convenient and right there.

It wasn't a big deal, nothing to do with the kid. His kid.

He had fitted the Spider-suit onto a holding frame, keeping it upright and pulled into shape. FRIDAY was ordered to run diagnostics, something he should have done a lot more when the kid had actually used it. Maybe he would have found out faster. Maybe he would have caught on.

"All systems are fully functional, boss. Geo-tracking and satellite control have been restored. Only remaining error code is E7."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "E7, huh?"

E7 meant there was an obstruction somewhere, possibly a foreign object that was lodged...

"Right," he mumbled and had gone to work. The web-shooters had been left untouched. The fluid had a limited shelf life and he had let it just sit there for days, of course if would have clotted by now, obstructing the shooters.

It was easy to remove the web-shooter units. He carried them over to the workbench and made to unclog them. A monotone job, perfect for thinking, if only his thoughts could stick to the one issue at hand. It was important. He needed to figure this out not just for the team but for the boy, too.

His boy who was lying in bed one floor above him. His boy who he had yelled at just hours ago, who he had let down no matter what everyone else said. He should have done better, should have been collected and strong for him to lean on.

"Fuck." Tony bit his lip. His hand had slipped and the knife had nicked the side of his left index finger. He pressed his hand close to his chest, cursing his own flimsiness. With an annoyed shake of his head, he inspected the wound but it wasn't all that bad. He pressed his lips against the cut hoping to still the bleed.

"Boss, the first aid kit is—"

"It's fine, I don't need..." He could taste blood but it seemed like he had been lucky. There had to be an easier way to do this. Something that would just disperse the dried up clots. A quick glance at the cut confirmed that it was only a minor wound, nothing to worry about. "It's fine, FRI, you can stand down."

Tony left the tools and web-shooter on the workbench and dropped down onto his chair. The finger pressed against his lips again, stilling the bleed, he rubbed his other hand across his eyes. He had been trying to ignore the exhaustion but now he felt it. He felt it deep in his bones. A sense of wariness that he couldn't afford to give into. It was late. He should rest, look at things again in the morning. Fresh eyes, fresh mind.

But he could feel the time he had left to solve this run through his fingers like sand. How could he rest as long as—

"Sir, code AES 007."

Tony didn't even remember standing up straight, all signs of exhaustion replaced by a sudden shot of adrenaline. "Where's Pepper?"

"She's still in his room. Her vitals suggest that she is sleeping."

His eyes flickered to the corner of his projection checking the time. It was just past 2 am.

"Rhodey?"

"In the guestroom, Sir. Asleep as well."

A sudden wave of panic made him move towards the elevator. His body was buzzing. He was overreacting. He knew that he was overreacting. The kid probably just wanted a snack, some water maybe. "Lockdown the penthouse level, FRI. Restrict access to the outdoor areas."

"Sir, I would advise against a lockdown as your son is currently out on the balcony."

Tony's heart skipped a beat. "Get me up there and fast."

As the elevator doors opened onto the penthouse floor, he couldn't help but rush up to the balcony door, a hundred scenarios playing in front of his eyes of everything that he could walk into.

"Stop!" His heart weight heavy in his chest, filled with anxiety. "Stop right there!"

The kid was dressed in black from head to toe. He had walked up the balustrade, his back turned towards the balcony door, towards Tony, whose heart was threatening to jump out of his chest. Peter didn't step back from the ledge of the building. He just stood there, eyes on the streets laid out about 1000 feet below them.

"Come... come on, come back inside..."

The boy was staring out into the night sky almost like he hadn't heard Tony like he hadn't heard him approaching. Unlikely. It wouldn't surprise Tony if the kid could even hear the elevator move when he was in full possession of his abilities.

"Come back inside and we can talk. I can... I can apologize for... for what I said and you... Kid, please..."

"I don't want your apology." The kid's voice was surprisingly soft. He hadn't raised it, sounded more like Tony had interrupted him in the middle of the calculation for a project, but at least he was talking.

"Alright, fine. Then we just talk. I... I'll try to explain better and—"

"I don't want to talk. I'm done talking." His breathing was forced low, the kid's own anxiety buried very close to the surface. "She needs me. I know she does and I can't just sit here... I... I need to go."

"And do what?" The words were out of Tony's mouth before he could stop himself. "What is it you think you can do for her right now?"

The boy's body twitched. His right hand came to rest on the balustrade and Tony's heart froze at the sight.

"Stop. Don't—"

"I'll... I'll help her. Keep... keep her safe."

"How are you gonna do that, huh?" Tony's skin was prickling with nerves. "Break her out of the hospital? And then what? You'll live on the run? She needs medical attention. She can't even sit up on her own right now!"

"I don't..." The boy did turn then, his face pale, eyes wide with shock.

"This doesn't help anyone." Tony's face probably didn't look much better than Peter's. His knees were shaking, panic threatening to weave its way into his every cell. "Least of all your aunt."

Peter shook his head. "I don't... I don't care, I just... I have to—"

"We'll find a way, but this ain't it." There would be nothing he could do if the kid decided to just go through with this plan. Nothing short of busting out his armor if he wanted a chance at stopping him. "All this does is draw attention to you, put you in a cell that I might not get you out of."

"I DON'T CARE!" The boy's face was twisted in agony.

His hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking, it took all of Tony's will to keep it together. "Well, I care. Pepper cares. Your aunt, she cares."

"Don't!" The kid turned his back to him and Tony's heart made a jump in his chest.

"You think she'll come with you? Flee the system? She won't." That was a shot in the dark. He had no idea what May Parker was actually capable of, just the hope that she would do the right thing for the kid. "Even if she knew what you can do, which she doesn't."

The boy's breathing was heavy and no matter how often Tony had seen him on the ledge of a building before, how often he had seen him jump off or even flip off one, this was different. Not just because of everything that had changed since then but it was the way the boy's whole body was trembling, how wobbly he still was on his legs. His left arm was just dangling by his side, the bandage from the bullet wound clearly bulging out the sleeve of his shirt. Sliding down the wall of an apartment building in Queens with only one of his arms able to support him was one thing, but they were on the 68th floor of a skyscraper. And it was the lack of a suit on the boy that bothered him most. No web-shooters, no safety measures should he need them. It made Tony's blood run cold.

"Pepper... Pepper called our lawyers. We're petitioning the court." The words rolled off his tongue so fast he hardly knew what he was saying. He had wanted to keep this quiet, had wanted to make sure they'd succeed before getting the kid's hopes up. "Trying to get the court's approval so you can see her."

Peter's head shot up before he froze. Then slowly, his hand slipped off the railing and he shuffled around, facing Tony again. "That I... that I can see her?"

Tony swallowed hard but nodded. "Yes. I know you want to. I know she wants to see you as well and—" He shook his head, eyes fixed on the kid. "Pepper called the lawyers today. It might take a day or two to hear back but—"

"And what?" The boy's face was stoic though just as pale as before. "May, she... she wants to see me and what?"

Tony held his gaze. He contemplated lying. He contemplated deflecting. It didn't matter after all, what Tony's motives in this were. Side motives. The boy would still get to see her. He was still doing this for the kid above everything else. All that mattered— Tony blew out a low breath. This wasn't the time for lies however white they were.

"And it'll remind her why she did all this." He was careful not to look away. "Keep her from taking a deal that Clarke's side might offer."

Peter's face twitched, his lips pressed tightly closed. His stance was a little crooked, the left arm still injured hanging stiffly next to him, the other one had a slight tremor, fingers picking at each other. "Clarke... Clarke is offering a... a deal?"

"Not yet. Not as far as we know. But we're sure they will." He wanted to get closer, get close enough to intervene should the boy decide to bolt. He still looked like he could bolt any second. "The justice department. Clarke will try his best to pressure them."

"But..." The kid shook his head, eye wandering down to the floor then back up to Tony. "But a deal might help. A deal might keep her free! A deal—"

"A deal will sell you out, kid."

Peter winced back, the railing pressed against his back, and Tony followed, stepping closer to him. "Shh, it's alright. Nobody will touch you. You're—"

"I... no... I don't..." The boy shook his head. "If that... if it would keep her free I—"

"No." Tony shook his head, his voice's sharpness out of his control. "Not gonna happen."

The kid's face twitched with a mix of pain and anger. "You don't get to decide that! You don't—"

"Kid, it'll not keep her free!" Another step, a small one. "Hey, look at me. They'll not let her off. They'll use her to try and control you."

"But you don't know that." He was shaking on his feet. "If they'd offer that... If she was free—"

"She wouldn't be, buddy." Tony's shoulders were tense. He wanted to reach for the kid, hold him, but he was too scared to spook him if he moved too fast. "Or if she was, it might end with you in the Raft. That's not—"

"It might! Or it might not!"

"It's not a risk we will take." Tony was stalking closer to the edge of the building, closer to his boy, hoping if they just talked a bit more, he'd at least reach him in time. "This is not the way to help her, kid."

The boy's feet jerked, almost pacing in place. "I'm not... I'm not... this... it's not happening." He turned his back to Tony, his right hand back on the balustrade. The soft whimper had Tony take another two steps as the kid slowly pulled up his other hand as well. "I'm not... not gonna let you take away that... that choice for her!"

"I... Kid, I'm not." Tony's hands were balled into fists. The adrenaline rushing through him blocked out the sting from the cut in his hand almost entirely. "Clarke can't be trusted. Anything he had his hands in can't be trusted. You know that! I'm trying to help—"

Peter turned, finger pointed at him, his eyes red-rimmed and wet. "Stop pretending like you want to help her! I know you don't!"

"I... I do..." His voice should sound more convincing than this. He should at least make himself believe that he meant that. "I promised you I would."

Peter shook his head, his cheeks hollow with exhaustion. "But you don't want to! You'll change your mind and then—"

"I... listen, I was tired and angry and... and I'm still tired and..." Tony blew out a low breath, desperate to pull himself together. "And angry... but I know that I wouldn't ever do anything to... to hurt her because I know you want to protect her. I know I would lose you over this and there is no way, okay? There is no way I'd risk that."

"But if you do... If you change your mind..." The kid's voice was just a low mutter. Tony had a hard time even hearing him over the high winds on the balcony. "It's life in prison if you do..."

The kid's feet shuffled further back, even closer to the edge of the balcony. By pure instinct, Tony's hand shot up as if that would stop the boy.

"Peter—"

"Don't!" The boy's eyes were on him in a flash, burning. "Don't call me that!"

"I... alright." Tony put both hands into the air now, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. "I won't if that's what you want. I won't call you that."

Panic of what could happen if the boy went over the edge - willingly or unwillingly - dominated his every thought. He tried his hardest to stay calm, to remind himself that the kid was just a kid. That this was all too much and that he shouldn't— that he couldn't lash out again no matter how deep his own frustrations pained him, that he had to keep his panic all on the inside.

"If that's what I want?" His desperation swung in every word that rolled off the boy's lips. "When has any of this ever, ever been about what I want? It's about what you want. You're the only one who decides. You, only you, every time!"

"Just..." He bit the inside of his cheeks hard. He didn't want to fight. He just wanted the kid to calm down. "We'll talk about it, okay? You tell me... you tell me what you want me to do and—"

"At least Pepper doesn't play pretend like you do. At least Pepper doesn't lie to me all the time!"

His eyes stung. The boy's words landed like an open-handed slap to his face. "I didn't—"

"You said you'd help her! You—you said you'd do any—anything but you lied! I know they already charged her, I know—"

"I didn't lie." Tony took another step. His breathing was painfully heavy. "I have no power over what the justice department does, buddy, and we'll do our best to help her, but kid, she..." Another step. No lies now. "I want to tell you that everything will be alright and that the best lawyers I can find would buy her an acquittal, but that is not going to happen, buddy. She broke the law, I..." Tony shook his head, hoping the kid would hear him. "I can't change that. Nobody can."

Peter's breathing was panicky, mouth slightly open. He was either going to burst into tears any second or turn and just bolt. "I can! I will help her."

Tony was only a little more than an arm's length away. His hands were still up, stretched out wide like he was trying to calm a spooked animal. The only outlet for his frustration he could allow right now. "You want to take her and run." He gave his head a little shake, eyes glued to the boy. "That's not helping her, buddy. That just means you will be hiding from the law until you get caught."

"That... that's not..."

He looked helpless, lost, but there was no sparing him right now, not when he was still willing to risk his own future for a venture that would help nobody.

"They'll catch you and she'll be back in front of the court and things will only be worse for her."

The kid's eyes were red, frantically looking back and forth, looking for a way out of this mess. "I have to... I can't just—"

"There are other ways to help." He lowered his hands only slightly, creeping a little closer still. "Other ways to be there for her."

"No..." He shook his head. "No, I—"

Without another glance at Tony, the kid tried to turn back towards the ledge, but Tony was close enough now, fast enough to grab him by one arm and yank him back if only a step or two away from the 68 story drop.

"No!" The boy's voice was hardly recognizable.

His fists hit Tony's chest again and again and while it was just frustration and anger and no intent to harm, the kid's super-human strength - even weakened - had those strikes on his already battered torso sting all the same. Tony had to bite his lip hard not to groan out in pain and he pulled the boy closer hoping it would calm him down.

"I hate you. I hate you!"

"Shh, I know." It hurt. He couldn't deny it. I was like a physical stab to his very core so much worse than the kid's actual blows to his chest. "I know, buddy."

He pulled the boy with him, wrestled him inside and there was a low vibe of relief for Peter let him. Tony was under no illusion that the Spiderling could overpower him at any moment if he really wanted to as weak as he still was on his feet. It would only need one good shove so he would be able to pull away from Tony. But as much as he wiggled and cried, as much as his swings against Tony's chest burned and his words stung, the boy didn't push him away.

"You ruined everything!" His voice was high, speckled with hiccoughs and sobs. "Every—everything!"

"It's gonna be okay." He doubted that the kid was even really listening to him. "Whatever happens, I'll do everything so you're okay."

"It won't! It won't be okay, it won't!"

He pulled the boy with him, unsure what to do next. The couch was closest and Tony let himself fall into the cushions, Peter still in his arms falling with him to his right, still cursing, still crying. Tony held onto him as the boy squirmed, held him close to his chest, the kid's hand now alternating between the odd push against Tony and gripping and tearing at his shirt, raving in his arms. He tried not to listen, not to take the boy's words to heart. He was scared and confused, his whole life coming apart at the seams. It was everything Tony had feared, everything he had wanted to shield him from but there was no turning back. There was no way to undo what had been pushed into motion, so Tony just kept repeating the same meaningless phrases of how it would be okay. How they would figure it out.

The scary truth was that those words were empty. They meant nothing. In all likeliness, the kid might not be okay, might not even be safe no matter what Tony did. He couldn't promise safety, but he could promise that he would do anything, everything to try.

Tony was talking, babbling the same things over and over more so to drown out the kid's agonizing hurt and fury than to console him for none of this would be enough. The quieter the kid got, the lower his own voice turned until they both stopped speaking altogether. It had been a while since they had both fallen silent. Peter's breathing was even and not as erratic as before. Tony craned his neck to see the boy's face, checking if he'd fallen asleep but two round brown eyes stared up at him.

"It's all my fault."

"Kid—"

"It happened because of me. Everything happened because—"

"None of this in on you. None of it."

Peter pressed his lips shut, his chin quivering with suppressed sobs. "You said... you said it's your fault. What happened to me." The kid swallowed hard but never pulled away. "You said you had to leave cause it was your fault. If that... if that's your fault, then this is mine."

Tony's mouth fell open. He blinked a couple of times, not sure what to say, where to go from here. All he knew is that he would never want his boy to carry that kind of a burden. "Maybe neither of us is at fault then."

Peter's gaze dropped down to his lap, his left arm cradled in front of him. "Without me, their son would still be alive. May would be free and healthy. Her whole family would still be alive, Ben would still be alive. If I had just—"

"Stop. That's not true."

"I could have stopped this." His voice husky with unshed tears. "I could have saved him."

Tony shook his head but then his mind caught up with what the kid had just said. "Saved him?"

Peter only ducked his head, eyes avoiding Tony's. They sat there for another few minutes, Tony wrecking his brain to figure out what he could say, anything, that would make him feel better.

"Did you really call the lawyers? Will I really—" The kid bit his tongue, not looking up.

Tony blew out a low breath, his hand brushed the hair out of Peter's face hoping it would make the boy look up again. "Pepper did. I asked her to."

Another moment of silence until the boy wiggled a bit, his body still tense. "Does she know? May?" He blinked rapidly, then added with a strained voice, "About... about Barnes? About... about know..."

Tony tried to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail. "No." A low breath and he tried to wring out a few more words, just loud enough for the kid to hear. "Not yet."

The boy wiggled again and Tony gave him some room but he didn't turn away, only repositioned himself, eyes still on his own hands. "Are... are you gonna... I mean... will you do it? Tell her?"

His breathing had just calmed down and now his pulse was picking up again. "It's been suggested to me that I shouldn't."

Peter nodded, still not meeting his eyes. "Maybe... maybe I should—"

"If you're proposing that you should tell her—" Deep breaths. He had to reign himself in. "You won't be there when she is told about Barnes."

"I don't..." Peter pulled his sleeve further down, covering the marks still visible on his wrists. "I don't want to... to be there."

"Alright." The urge to tug the boy a little closer was strong and hard to suppress. "It'll be alright."

"It doesn't matter," Peter whispered. "She'll hate me."

"She won't, buddy." Tony's heart ached, desperate to make things better. "She loves you."

"She shouldn't. She won't when she finds out. She'll never even want to look at me again."

"Hey, that's not—"

Peter pushed himself away from him, not far, just enough to look at Tony properly. "You hate her. You hate her because... because of me. Because she was like... vaguely involved in why you couldn't... couldn't find me."

"I... I don't..." Tony swallowed hard but was careful not to look away. "I don't hate her."

"But you do," the kid whispered, his voice wavering. "And I'm not even dead."

A cold shiver went down Tony's back, made the hair on his neck, on his arms rise with goosebumps at the thought. At the memory of all these years that he was so close to believing that he was. That his kid had been lost forever, dead.

The boy gasped as Tony pulled him close against him. It didn't matter that his chest stung, that his arms were shaking, he couldn't stand the thought of not holding him, of how long he had thought he would never get to hold him again. Slowly, Peter's arms wrapped around him and he held onto him, his forehead pressed against Tony's neck. Tony's every muscle was shaking from a mixture of exhaustion and nerves. All he could do was hope that the boy didn't notice the tears that were falling into his hair but by the way he had shuffled close, how his hands were clasping hand-fulls of Tony's shirt, he probably did.

"I don't..." The kid's voice was hardly more than a whisper. "I don't hate you... I... I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"Shhh." Tony cleared his throat, one hand on his boy's back holding him close, the other in his hair. "It's okay, buddy. You're tired and... and you're angry. Don't worry about it."

He couldn't deny the sense of relief that engulfed his as the kid pressed his face back into his shirt, at how tightly he hugged him even if Tony's ribs suffered momentarily. It was a good kind of pain, the one that made him feel alive and lucky to be.

For a moment at least, a split second for there was even more to worry about now. Something that hadn't even registered as an issue until Peter had started talking.

"Hey, kid..." There was a chance that he'd ruin this once again but he couldn't shake the thought. "You... you weren't there, were you? When Ben Parker was killed?"

The boy twitched in his arms but shook his head no.

"Alright. That... that's alright." Tony's hand was still on the back of Peter's head, tangled in his hair.

"I should have been," Peter whispered. "Maybe he'd still be... still be alive. I... I could have stopped them. Cou—could have done... done something."

Tony pressed his eyes shut, arms tightly wrapped around the small frame of his crying kid. "There's no way to know that, buddy."

"If I hadn't mess—messed around with... with my powers—with... with some stupid tricks and... and things, if I had fo—focused and... and done some—something useful—" His voice broke and he wiggled a bit more until he had his face turned back into Tony's chest. The kid's fists were balled up in his shirt, shaking.

All the "it's not your fault"s and "you couldn't have known"s that rolled of Tony's tongue sounded hollow next to the desperate sobs of the kid. It had never even occurred to Tony that Peter could have been anywhere close to Ben Parker when he had been killed... murdered. Something. Maybe he just hadn't wanted to think about it, to calculate how many weeks into Peter's abilities he had lost the man that had basically raised him. Had raised the boy instead of him.

Tony gave his head a sharp shake. This wasn't the time. This wasn't about him. It was about the crying boy in his arms who had held onto this guilt for months. Guilt over how he hadn't been able to protect a grown man at 12 year's old. It made Tony's stomach turn and he slowly let his hand run through the boy's hair again and again. All he could do was hold his kid, comfort him, and hate himself for how good it felt - despite everything - that he was the one that could be there for him.

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[author's note: Thank you guys for reading and following along! Hope you're enjoying the ride!

I love reading your thoughts on the story since comments are still civil for the most part ;)

Next chapter will be up when it's done which could be any time between this weekend and next week :P]


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